What Was Lost
by Anlynne
Summary: In her 7th Year, Hermione unexpectedly makes amends with Draco Malfoy. However, she could not have predicted how it would change her life.
1. Chapter 1

**Part One**

**Chapter One**

The steam was a ghost in the night ethereally rising over the station. The splattered rain on the train window glimmered like tiny lights. The noise of the engine hardly quieted the noises of the passengers bustling and talking, distant firecrackers of ongoing games.

When arriving at the destination, Hermione was slightly jostled getting off the train as everyone was anxious to see Hogwarts, rebuilt from the war of last year. She had exasperatedly told her two oldest friends, "it is in Hogwarts, A History, Hogwarts can rebuild itself." They had laughed, if only for the joy of all of them being alive, eating ham sandwiches in Dumbledore's office for peace.

Some were seeing it for the first time, and only a few for the first time since May 2nd, 1998. All the reactions were the same, though, the sense of awe, the warm and comforting sense of home.

It felt odd to be going to school without Harry and Ron. They chose to begin their careers and Hermione chose to finish her education. She didn't reprimand them but she did feel strangely alone. On the train she sat with Neville and talked of the past, the future, and what they would expect upon seeing the castle again. She always found Neville to be good company. He was one of the only close friends she had that returned.

Luna decided to begin her research of unknown species and Ginny couldn't pass up the opportunity to play for the Holyhead Harpies. It left Hermione feeling strangely desolate. She was friendly with Dean and Seamus, who surprisingly came, but it wasn't the same without Harry and Ron. She suspected it would be the loneliest year yet.

High over the First Year's heads Hagrid waved to Hermione. She waved back and made her way to the carriages that would carry them up to the castle. She gasped when they came to them, stopping in her tracks.

Neville, at her elbow, took a second to realize what her reaction was about. "Yeah, the Thestrals."

It was years ago when she told Harry how she wished she could see them. She rode one to the Ministry once. It was the most frightful thing she had gone through, simply for the reason that there was nothing that she could do. While she often fought for her life she could see what she was fighting, but flying on something she _couldn't_, that was a surprising new fear for her that almost took place over her failing.

They were oddly beautiful creatures, with long slender necks, their bodies mostly bones and stretches of dead skin. They indeed did look like death itself. Their wings like bats were tucked close to their bodies.

Neville held open the carriage door for her and she stepped in, him climbing in after her. The ride to the school was bumpy as it always had been, the lights in the castle's windows growing larger as they grew closer. It was beautiful, how it stretched up and against the night sky, like it was protected by more than just enchantments. As though it had never seen the face of war.

Neville kept near to her as they traveled into Hogwarts, as they took their seats at their house tables. Professor McGonagall, a strict professor that was more white-haired than when Hermione saw her last, sat a stool in front of the teacher's table and on the stool she sat the Sorting Hat, no more worse for wear when she saw Neville pull the Gryffindor sword out of it.

Shaky First Years lined up, and the brimming of the hat tore, and out of it came a song never before heard.

_Place me on your head_

_I'll look in with ease._

_For the Sorting Hat it's a breeze_

_And I'll announce what I see._

_Ravenclaw revered for her mind_

_For Slytherin ambition he inclined._

_And Gryffindor declares bravery not be confined_

_But dear Hufflepuff loved traits combined._

_Come and be kind_

_Have a welcoming mind_.

One by one First Years were sorted into their houses, each time the Sorting Hat heralding its decision to all in the Great Hall, and the students each happily – albeit nervously - joined a cheering table. When the line ended, the stool and hat was taken away and Headmaster Vector (a wizard who was her Arthimacy professor years ago) stood to make his speech. Hermione felt nostalgic for Dumbledore and she stared at her hands in her lap.

"All should be reminded that the Forbidden Forest is forbidden for good reason. If you venture there you may never return. I implore you now to enjoy our feast." He waved his hands the tables were filled with delicious food, their goblets to the brim with drink.

Hermione peered over the ham, roast potatoes and lamb, red-currant jelly, beef, gravy, pork, pease pudding and plenty of vegetables. Her mouth watered in anticipation as she tucked in and right as Hermione cleared her plate ice cream, puddings, treacle tarts, and chocolate eclairs appeared in the vanished picked-over dinner. At the end of the meal, she was very full and quite sleepy, as she tended to always be at the end of a start of the term feast. She couldn't wait to climb into the four-poster bed that awaited her in the common room. Despite it being a year, her feet still had the way to the seventh floor memorized.

However, Neville forgot the missing step in a staircase and it took longer than she liked to pull him out of it. It was never more appreciated when they met up with the others, gave the Fat Lady the password (bubble-squeak) and stepped through into their warm and comfy common room. Straight ahead she went up the staircase to the girls dormitory and right away, finding her suitcase by her bed which Crookshanks was snoozing on.

She had a vague memory in the morning of the satisfying knowledge that she was finally home again before she fell on to her pillow and was fast asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Before leaving with Harry and Ron to hunt for Voldemort's Horcruxes, she would meet the boys in the common room every morning to go breakfast. It was the oddest sensation, to walk out of the girls dormitory and not see them. She did see Neville, who waited patiently for her.

"Thought you may be missing them," he said.

Her heart warmed for him as it had done many times in the past. Neville was a sweet boy and grew to be a sweet man. Together they had breakfast in the Great Hall, and they went to their first class of the day, which happened to be Potions.

Professor Slughorn decided to keep his position as Potions Master and he didn't seem as though he could be more happy about it. His cheeks were rosy and he greeted them all with enthusiasm, welcoming them to his class. He beamed at Hermione and Neville, and like Neville was she was hoping that she wouldn't be invited to the SlugClub. She had to focus on her studies, surely he would understand.

Professor Slughorn clapped cheerily. "Lets mix things up, shall we? Try for a little inter-house community. Now... Lets see... Longbottom and Nott, Thomas and Parkinson, Finnigan and Bulstrode, and... Yes, Malfoy and Granger."

Hermione didn't hear the rest of his speech, her eyes instantly locked on two steel grays ones across the classroom. Dread doused her in ice. She thought the year would be lonely without Harry and Ron but she didn't count on it being miserable.

People shuffled about, mumbling their displeasure, but Hermione and Malfoy didn't move. Someone touched her arm and she jumped out of her thoughts. Neville's brows were pulled, concerned. "Alright there, Hermione?"

"Yes, yes, I'm okay" she answered without certainty.

Professor Slughorn clapped his hands again. "Hurry, now."

"Good luck," Neville wished in a groan when the Professor eyed his loitering.

"You too." She looked back to Malfoy and saw that he still had not gathered his ingredients to join her.

Malfoy then jerked his head, motioning it in a way as a welcome. According to him she was supposedly meant to join his table. Not feeling up to an argument she picked up her case of ingredients and her potions book and slowly went to his table. She stood across from him so the cauldron was between. He seemed amused by her actions, although she couldn't fathom why.

"For today brew me a batch of Polyjuice Potion. This will take a month so get to know your partner!"

Redness crept into Hermione's cheeks, remembering when Harry, Ron and her drunk it in their Second Year to infiltrate the Slytherin common room. It had been Malfoy they were interrogating and there she was, brewing the exact potion with him. A month seemed like an awfully long time.

Face down she prepared the needed ingredients as Malfoy silently opened his book to the page. He took the small cutting knife and Hermione handed him the Boomslang skin. Their fingers met, his colder than the dungeon itself and she sharply retracted.

"Sorry."

Hermione glimpsed up. His gaze was set on the Boomslang in his hand, his mouth set as if he hadn't said what she thought he said. Then, his lips moved. "I am sorry."

This appeared to pain him as his whole face contorted. Twisting the knife, he watched the glint from the torches play off it.

"I forgive you."

He met her eyes, astonishment to sincerity. They were suspended there, the knife hung limply from his fingers, and Hermione's hand on the page of the book. They were close together, nearer than they ever had been. She could see the small cracks in his lips and the bright speckles of silver in his eyes; she could smell him, the musk and patchouli. It smelled familiar. Something that edged its way around her brain and sat on the tip of her tongue, but no matter how she strained she couldn't remember.

Returning to her ingredients, he returned to his book. They worked silently together for the rest of class, but it was different. It was better, because she knew that Malfoy would probably _not_ stab her with his cutting knife.

At the other end of the room there was an explosion. Professor Slughorn pushed past his students and took a hold of Neville who was barely standing, his brown hair on end, his face blackened.

"Dear boy! Who added the wolf's fang?"

Nott kept his face passive, but this did not fool the professor.

"Fifty points from Slytherin for your antics, Nott."

This only caused a twitch in Nott's eye.

"Take him to the infirmary."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Two nights later Hermione laid awake. Normally, she had no problem sleeping. It was easy to after a productive day, but that night she fretted over her schoolwork and she had no Sleeping Draught. It was to be a long night, she was sure.

She thought of the Polyjuice Potion simmering in the dungeons. Was the color off? Had it been stirred the right amount of times? Malfoy didn't forget to add the Fluxwood, did he? If he did forget the potion was ruined.

The worry had her staring up at her scarlet canopy in earnest. She moved onto her side, stretching her leg and feeling a lump against her knee. There was a hiss and Hermione reached and patted Crookshanks head.

Crookshanks! A wonderful idea came to her!

Throwing her covers off she flung open her curtains and sat on the edge of her bed. Out of the drawer of the bedside table she took out parchment, an inkwell and her quill. She began to write, and Crookshanks feeling the importance sat beside her, his bushy tail swishing over her back.

_Malfoy,_

_ Did you add the Fluxwood to our Potion?_

_Hermione_

Reading over it, she added:

_P.S. I'm sorry for the lateness of this inquiry._

Rolling it up she fixed it in Crookshanks collar and he bounded off, a tiny bounce to his bandy-legged walk.

Minutes later he returned pouncing beside her, a note in his collar on the opposite side she had placed hers. Unfurling it she first noticed his elegant handwriting, much different to other boys his age. She remembered Victor had a rather plain way of forming his letters. The elegance did not lesson the harshness of Malfoy's words, however.

_Granger,_

_ In your perfection did you lose you ability to tell time or did you not take Astrology?_

_Malfoy_

Infuriated, she blotted her next note.

_Malfoy,_

_ I know you care for your grade as much as I care about mine. If the potion fails to properly brew we will have to obtain perfect scores on our exams!_

_Hermione_

_Granger,_

_ Stop sending me this mangy cat! He tore a hole in my silk duvet!_

_Malfoy_

_Malfoy,_

_Do you know what a duvet is?_

_Hermione_

_Granger,_

_ You are no better than me!_

_Malfoy_

_Malfoy,_

_ That is rich!_

_Hermione_

Haggard and walking funny even for its bowlegged self, Crookshanks came back with his head drooping and immediately lying curled into a ball on top of her pillow. She searched for a note, running her fingers along his collar, but there was none. Crookshanks meowed, his yellow eyes fixated on the dormitory door.

Hermione understood and took her robe from the bottom of her bed, wrapping it tightly around her. She padded out of the room, careful not to wake any of the girls. In the common room the fire had died, leaving glowing embers around the charred wood. She pushed open the portrait praying that the Fat Lady did not wake. She could hear her snores.

For a moment she thought Crookshanks had made a mistake. Malfoy wasn't there. The torches were no longer lit, the cold of the night chilled the stone and she shivered. Right as she was going to return to her warm bed she spotted white hair and a pointed face staring at her from the corner of the corridor.

She approached, hushing venomously, "have you lost your mind? Have you completely gone off your rocker, because I believe all of your idiocies in your youth has affected you! What are you doing out of your bed?!" She should have deducted points from him right then but that idea swooped out of her mind when he spoke, his tone soft.

"Sorry. Again."

Was she understanding it, or was all of her interactions with Malfoy a bizarre dream?

"It was rude of you to send your cat to me, anyway."

"Did you add the Fluxwood or not?"

"I..." He thought. "Didn't."

"You didn't?! Malfoy, what are we going to do? They had to be in there by tonight. If they are not the potion is ruined, not a step can be missed when you are brewing any potion, it is vital to the life of it -"

"Not too passionate there?"

"This is serious! We will fail." The reality crushed her, fogged her brain as horrible possibilities of futures drowned her.

"Don't get your knickers in a knot. We'll go down there now."

"Now?"

He glowered. "It's either now or risk failing."

She had no choice, had she? She pulled her hands inside of the sleeves of her robe and grumbled, "come on, before we're caught."

They didn't speak for six floors, slowly making their way down. It was not as though all was quiet, there were the huge sounds of the staircases moving, the wind blowing, and the snores from the portraits. Regardless, it had suddenly become awkward between her and Malfoy. It was fine, when she knew that there was nothing to be said and no vengeance, but they spoke and how could you go back from that?

When they arrived in the dungeons they both whispered, "lumos" and a spray of white light lit their way. Slowly and softly they crept into the Potions room. Hermione headed straight for their cauldron, peeking over the rim into the purplish green liquid mass.

In a dark corner glowed a brilliant wand and there was the sound of trembling glass and clinking bottles. Malfoy came back with a small box container and he took out the Fluxwood adding a pinch.

"Better," he asked sarcastically.

She stirred clockwise three times, and the green became more vibrant before settling into a white. "We'll be better if we get out of here."

"Remember, this was your idea," he said as he followed her to the door.

Rounding on him, she spat, "my idea?! This was all your idea."

"You woke me -"

"You forgot the Fluxwood -"

"How is that my fault?!"

"It's not mine! You -"

"You are unbelievable -"

"- Irresponsible -"

"- Bossy -"

"- Arrogant -"

"- Weasel-lover -"

"- Don't bring Ron into this, you ignorant -"

"- I'll bring in who I want, you snobby -"

"- Foul -"

There was a onslaught of coughing, that when noted that it wasn't either of them, they looked up to the opposing door, the one that led to the Professor's office. And there was a shape of a big man that could only be Professor Slughorn himself.

Hermione felt it, the oncoming expulsion, the horror of having to tell her parents - and worse telling Harry and Ron. They would only get too much joy out of her being expelled all on her own without the help of the two of them.

Professor Slughorn, in his blue gown wrapped with a cord, stepped into the light from their wands. "I hope, Miss Granger, that Mr. Malfoy has not persuaded you to cheat."

"No, sir. I persuaded him. You see, I remembered I've forgotten to add the Fluxwood. I promise, it will not happen again, sir." A memory of her First Year, lying to Professor McGonagall on behalf of Harry and Ron cropped into her consciousness. She looked sideways at Malfoy, who unlike them in the past, did not look shocked or humbled. He looked all the ready for her to be expelled and him finish his year.

Pulling his face into one of disappointment, Professor Slughorn clicked his tongue. "That will be ten points from Gryffindor and Slytherin. Now off to bed with you."

She nodded, "thank you, sir." Turning on her way out she grasped the sleeve of Malfoy's cloak but before they could be a safe distance away, Professor Slughorn spoke again.

"Mr. Malfoy, in my Third Year I met a muggle-born girl. Lovely, lovely girl, but unfortunately not well-known. But I must say that she had a profound impact on me. Slytherin's and Gryffindor's, they balance each other, much like how I see Miss Granger balances you. Before his death, Dumbledore told me that himself."

Malfoy gaped, and he looked like he was on the verge of cursing him. Hermione was quick and led him out, pulling him behind her. They were in the entrance when he got his wits about him and pulled out of her hold so roughly she questioned him with raised brows.

"Crazy old man."

"We're lucky we weren't expelled!"

He scoffed, spinning back to the dungeon. "Next time you need my help, Granger, don't ask."

Hermione glowered at his disappearing form, but she was left stricken herself.

Her and Malfoy a good balance?


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

A month passed. The air cooled and the leaves on the grounds turned orange. Hagrid was growing gigantic pumpkins in the patch behind his house that rivaled minivans. Halloween was fast approaching and students in a frenzy for it sent bats down the corridors. Hermione confiscated each one for it scared the First Years. She had a feeling that they came from Ron and George's joke shop, and she made a mental note to write them later about who they sold their items to.

Since that night they snuck into the Potions classroom Malfoy and her hadn't spoken. Or, more true, Malfoy hadn't spoken to her. Hermione did try to engage him in conversation; she asked him how he was, how his grades were, but all she received were dirty looks and silence. If she was lucky she would get a snap comment. Granted, it was a better class than most she had in her youth when Professor Snape was teaching it. While his death was terrible, she couldn't lie and say that she would rather him making the rounds, checking everyone's Polyjuice Potion and not Professor Slughorn.

Professor Slughorn came to their cauldron after giving good marks to Dean and Parkinson. He peered in, wafted the steam toward his face, inhaling a deep sniff, and nodded proudly, clapping his hands. "Well done! A perfect concoction. Fifty points to Gryffindor and Slytherin!"

Hermione smiled at Malfoy, but he kept his face downward, not gloating or spreading a loud whisper that he had done all the work. No, he stood silently and it infuriated her.

Professor Slughorn announced that their partnership had come to an end. Hermione was deflated as she had hoped to have more time to make Malfoy talk. Why she was worrying herself over it, she had yet to conclude.

When class was dismissed she saw that Malfoy had already gathered his things and was out the door, running up the stairs. She rushed after him, excusing herself as she pushed her way through.

"Malfoy! Malfoy, will you stop?"

He spun on her, his cheeks pink. "What do you want, Granger?"

Her mouth was open, but no words were coming out. What did she want? She didn't know, but she wanted _something._ "I... I - I wanted to tell you that... It was nice, having you for a partner."

"Remember when you said I lost my mind?"

She nodded, a little frightened at where he was going with it. He had drawn closer to her face, the attempt at being intimidating, but that was not what intimated her, it was that he thought he still could, that he would try.

"I have lost my mind," Malfoy continued, unaware of the effect he was having on her, "I must have, to have ever been partners with _you._" The corner of her mouth twisted up, mocking his cruel smirk.

She wouldn't let him get the best of her. "Was that supposed to be insulting, Malfoy? I'm not a little girl anymore, you can't hurt me."

There was a stagger as he stepped away from her. He shook his head. "You're not worth the waste of my time hurting."

_That was something_, she thought. She let him walk away as she made her own path to Arthimacy.

After her class and an armful of books to read, she plopped herself outside under a yellow tree. It was a beautiful day, the leaves crunched beneath her. There was a nice breeze that cooled her and the tree shielded her from the sun. She laid out her books in front of her, flipping to the right chapters, consulting each one as she wrote on the parchment propped up on her knee, supported by a stiff book underneath.

With the quill held firmly between her thumb and forefinger she stared out at the lake, the rippling waters, and children laughing as the giant squid raised a tentacle accepting a sandwich a ginger-girl held out. Hermione smiled, thoughts of her and her boys springing to mind, but quickly replaced with formulas and the structure of the next sentence.

Before she could write it out there was a barn owl swooping down and settling next to her heel. He ruffled his feathers and held out his foot, a rolled bit of parchment tied to it. She got it and unrolled it as he hooted on his way.

_Hermione,_

_ Ginny's team won again. Luna's caught... Something. Some animal that bit me. Is it a bad thing if it turns red and itchy?_

_ We miss you here. I wish you didn't go. I think we've wasted enough time, haven't we? Feel free to drop out and come back!_

_Love, Ron_

'Love' was crossed out, jagged in its line. He was uncertain if it was too much. Touching that jagged line, she looked up, and her eyes instantly connected with Malfoy's. He was by the lake, sitting next to Nott. Unabashedly he was looking right back at her, as if he knew what letter she received and what was on it, and she didn't know why that burned her cheeks.

She placed it in her pocket, deciding that she would respond later that day. She couldn't seem to bring herself to do so when she was being stared at the way she was.

Soon she became engrossed in her work, line after line, numbers and symbols flowing from her brain to the yellow paper. When she reached her four foot quota and glimpsed up, Malfoy and Nott were no longer there.

Lying her supplies neatly into her bag she strode back into the castle. She didn't make it as far as the grand staircase, however, when someone yelled for her. Professor Slughorn. He waved merrily at her and motioned for her to join him.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Miss Granger, but will you join me, please?"

She walked in stride with him into the dungeons. "Professor, is this about our exam?"

"Not quite, dear." There was a glint of a secret in his eye.

"Sir, I do have Charms to go to."

"I'll send a message to Professor Flitwick, I assure you, you won't be in trouble for your short absence."

He led her into the Potions room, and past the desks through his door. He stood there as he would in front of his class. "What do you smell," he asked her.

Her brows furrowed in confusion. "Sir?"

He waited for her.

Hermione knew that the quicker she played along the quicker she could return to her studies. She inhaled deeply. "Parchment... Books... Grass..." Her cheeks heated, and she felt like Malfoy was there, watching her; hearing her. She looked behind her, but there was no one there. It was bad enough as it was, her teacher grinning at her, knowing exactly what it was that she was thinking, what she was remembering.

There brewing in the corner was a mother-of-pearl sheen liquid, steam in spirals floating over the rim of the cauldron. It mocked her as a cheater, because it was not giving the scent of Ron's hair, of anything linking the two of them.

"Between you and me, Mr. Malfoy's reaction was quite the same."

"Malfoy was here?"

"He smelled cinnamon," he chuckled, "he thought I was cooking." Professor Slughorn sat behind his desk, and suddenly appeared to be in deep serious thought, and it was off-putting from his general nature. Then, he said, "I'm sure you know the phrase, 'what was lost, can be found?'"

"Of course, sir."

"Sometimes we lose things we don't know we had."

"I don't understand, sir."

"Neither do I, Professor Trelawney asked me to tell you that. But you will understand." Waving his hand out the door, she understood that it was her cue to leave.

She wondered if Professor Slughorn had been possessed by the spirit of Dumbledore, because what he said was a little too deep for Professor Slughorn. She then realized that thought was very Ron-like, and as she started up the grand staircase, she felt the lump of his letter to her in her pocket. A gentle reminder that she must write him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Musk, patchouli and all of Malfoy followed her to bed that night. It played in her head, and Ron's unanswered letter laid forgotten on the bedside table. While she was thinking of Malfoy, she couldn't answer her boyfriend. Her _boyfriend_. The term suddenly lost all meaning on her as she tried to figure out _why._ Why Malfoy? Why her? Why was Professor Slughorn intent on the two of them making amends as though they had once been friends.

Friends was not a term that could apply to them. They were enemies and next to that, they were nothing.

_What was lost can be found._

It seemed like something that Dumbledore would say, and as such, she gave it careful thought. When she first met Malfoy, it was on the train, helping Neville look for his toad, Trevor. He had shunned her out of the compartment, and she huffed and went along her way. Their relationship only worsened when they were sorted into rival houses, and Harry turned down his offer for a friendship.

_ Sometimes we lose things we don't know we had._

Time went on and they never realized what they missed, but Hermione never thought of it as a missed opportunity. It was never presented as an opportunity. Malfoy hated the likes of her and likewise she wasn't fond of him. They chose different sides of the war, they fought against each other.

Then again, he was never all bad. She knew it when Harry had caught him crying in the bathroom. When he wouldn't give up their names in the Manor. He may have hated them, may have not cared for them at all, but she thought she understood what Professor Slughorn was saying.

Sometimes, we missed out on things that could better us as people, but we are given second chances, when we _are _better people. Malfoy had grown, that much was evident when he apologized. She herself had grown. And this was one opportunity she was not going to waste.

The night was pressing in and she decided then that sleep was not going to come easily that night. She moved out of bed, sliding her feet into her slippers wrapped her cloak around her and padded outside. Behind her, Crookshanks meowed curiously, but she pressed her finger to her lips and Crookshanks bowed his head between his paws, agreeing to be quiet.

Hermione rushed out of her common room and went to the dungeons. She didn't even try to be silent. What reason did she have? She was a Prefect.

Recalling the portrait that Harry described to her that led to the Slytherin common room, she found it. It was dark and dank, and she was cold. She wished she had put on something warmer.

"Wake up," she urged the sleeping man in the portrait. "Wake up!"

He stirred, gave a great snort and bleary looked at her, running his hand over his black beard. "What do you want? You're not a Slytherin."

"I want you to wake up Draco Malfoy."

"I will not! Go to bed in your tower, _Gryffindor._"

She took out her wand. The last thing she wanted was to threaten him and be caught doing so, but she needed to speak to Malfoy. She had to. "Don't make me ruin you."

The wizard narrowed his eyes at her. "Are you Hermione Granger?"

"Yes."

"The girl who helped Potter defeat Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"

"Yes."

He smiled, but it could or could not have been a good thing in her favor. "You slander the name of Salazar Slytherin."

"She'll slander you!"

Hermione spun and saw Malfoy, who too was in his slippers, glaring at the portrait.

"Draco Malfoy," the wizard hummed.

Malfoy grabbed Hermione's arm, toting her out of the area, into the corridor. "What in Merlin's pants are you doing here," he hissed, pushing her against the stone wall.

"I wanted to talk with you." She gave him a once-over. "What are you doing out of bed?"

"I'm a Prefect."

"So am I."

He sighed. "Fine. Have it your way. I wanted to talk to you, too."

"Earlier today Professor Slughorn took me into his office and -"

"And the Amortentia." He nodded, understanding.

"Malfoy -"

He secured his arms over his chest, taking a step away from her. "Let's forget this, okay?"

"Why? I've been thinking, it's only the scents that you're attracted most to. That doesn't mean we are attracted to each other. Think of it this way -"

"No!" He shook his head. "You're infectious, you know that, Granger?" His face contorted in fury, his fists dropping to his sides. "I hate you. I hate the scent of you, I hate thinking about you, and I hate how you think you're better than everyone. You're not. I hated you."

Hermione smiled, because while he spouted of the word 'hate' four times she didn't mind, because the most important one was in past tense. "When?"

"The drawing room."

Without her notice her hand touched the scar on her neck. It was exposed, and he watched as her fingers traced it. He looked away with loathing, and she felt awful. "It wasn't your fault."

"We can't do this, Granger. Too much happened. Don't come down here again."

Hermione was appalled. She had learned too much to turn back, not to waste a second to make things better, and with a fire that started in her heart and her brain on dizzying alert, and poison her veins, she snatched the back of his robe, causing him to stumble. Shoving his shoulders his back hit the wall, his eyes wide and incredulous as she grasped the sides of his face and kissed him full on the mouth.

It wasn't long until Malfoy caught on, and he was grappling at her hips, flipping her so her back collided with the wall, and he lifted her up, his tongue snaking alongside hers. Hot and addicting. Fingers tangled in her hair he pulled and tugged, and bit her lip, and lowered, biting her collar bone. She was on fire.

That was the night that changed her future.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

In Hermione's room, under her four-poster bed was a box. The box was an unremarkable brown, nothing seemingly special about it at first sight but within it were over a dozen folded letters, all addressed to her, and all of them ending with Ron's untidy scrawl. The box was forgotten by Hermione the night before.

The wand at her side buzzed, and Hermione half-asleep made her way out of bed. Holding her balance on her bedside she felt paper under her fingers. She looked, and her heart stopped.

Ron's latest letter.

It all came rushing back to her, and guilt crushed her back to her bed. Cradling her face in her hands she hid from it, but it found her through the cracks. She didn't know what to do. She had cheated on Ron with Malfoy! The light always held more impossible and harder truths. What was Malfoy - Draco thinking now that he too was waking.

"Hermione, is everything okay?" Parvati leaned to see Hermione's face.

Hermione nodded, "I'm okay, Parvati."

"You're a little green. Want me to take you to the Hospital Wing?"

"No, I'm fine." She stood to prove her point. She must have appeared somewhat steady on the outside for Parvati let her be, joining the others in the common room on their way to the Great Hall, but on the inside, Hermione felt like she was crumbling.

When she exited the dormitory there was Neville in his usual spot waiting for her. His smile creased into a frown. "You don't look well, Hermione. You should go to Madam Pomfrey."

"Thanks, Neville," she said absently, moving to walk with him, but he didn't move. Gently he touched her elbow, stopping her.

"Hermione? What's wrong?"

"It's nothing."

He didn't look convinced, but didn't press for more information. While they went to the Great Hall for breakfast they talked of homework, their marks in Potion.

"I reckon I'd like to be a Herbology professor," he confided in her as they sat at the Gryffindor table.

"That's great, Neville. Have you told Hannah?"

Hannah was his girlfriend. She didn't return for her 7th Year, as she wanted to spend the time with her father, the both of them mourning the loss of her mother.

"She likes the idea. She's been talking to Madam Rosemeta about running the Three Broomsticks."

Hermione smiled kindly, but turned her gaze to the Slytherin table. Neville caught this, and looked worriedly at her out of the corner of his eyes, as he reached for a slice of toast.

"Looking for Malfoy?"

She blushed, and focused on taking a generous helping of eggs onto her plate. "Had to ask him something in Potions," she mumbled incoherently.

Again, Neville didn't appear as though he believed her, and again, he didn't press for more information. Instead he talked with Dean and Seamus about upcoming tryouts for Quidditch. She didn't bother listening, as she saw Malfoy at his table, talking seriously with Nott. Looking away before he could catch her, she took out her Transfiguration book, and buried herself into it as she ate her eggs and toast.

Checking her watch, a gold wind-up that her father gave her that had her name engraved on the side, she sat her books in her bag. "Five minutes," she told reminded Neville, standing up and leaving.

When she reached the door to Potions someone grabbed her arm and she was wrenched sideways. Trying to keep her balance, she stumbled and followed, her hand feeling inside of the sleeve of her robe for her wand, but then in the darkness behind a statue of Windell the Weird, her lips were captured. She recognized the lips, the feel, and she smiled, every worry that morning forgotten as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Because Draco Malfoy was irresistible, a pull in her stomach told her that there was where she belonged, and that frightened her. She never knew such a feeling was possible.

As soon as it began, it ended. Draco, with a smirk, left her there in the dark. A minute after arranging herself respectably, she joined the class, down-casting her eyes, afraid that someone could see what she had done and who it was with.

Through the curtain in her hair she spotted Draco across the room smiling at her, and she blushed. Neville, who looked from Draco to Hermione, and she could see that he was putting it together. Instantly, she felt trouble, but she wouldn't know how much until that night.

Thirty minutes past her duties as Prefect, Hermione returned to the common room. Swiping a finger over her swollen lips she combed the tangles and wild strands gone astray into a smooth wave. It was doubtful that anyone was awake to see the disarray that she was in, but the thirty minutes she spent with Draco had made her paranoid.

She could still feel him pressing against her, his lips on hers, his hands in her hair, his breath caressing her ear. It sent a tingle in the most delicious places. She would relive the night while she tried for sleep.

Stepping through the portrait ("You, young lady, are late!") and she noted a shadow. Reaching for her wand she brought it out before her, pointed at the shadow next to the dying fire. It flickered, and moved and Neville stood from the comfiest chair, his face, scarred from the Second War looking deeper in the low light, was set into a hardened accusation that Hermione didn't like.

Slowly, she placed her wand back into the sleeve of her robe. In retrospect, it was silly of her to have pointed it at a shadow. The Gryffindor Common Room was secure, no one could get in with a password. The chances that it was anyone but a fellow student... She blushed.

"Does Ron know?"

The blush deepened into crimson, and she bowed her head, ashamed. There was no reason to try to lie - not that she was ever good at it. "No."

"I thought you were better than this."

Tricks pricked her eyes. "I thought I was too."

Neville moved toward the staircase for the boys dormitory.

"Neville, please. Don't tell him. He - he deserves to hear it from me."

He nodded, at least, she thought he did. He trudged up the stairs.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

The next morning, Neville wasn't there waiting to walk with her to the Great Hall. She walked alone, hands holding tight to the strap of her pack, feeling miserable and more alone than ever.

What made her crazy for Draco? What was the impulse to be with him that she couldn't shake? It was frightening, to feel as though she was losing her mind. If she wasn't careful, it would be the least that she lost.

In the Great Hall she slumped into the first empty seat which always was at the end of the long table. No one liked to sit there because there was a chance at whoever sat at your side would push you to the floor. She sat there anyway, and kept her eyes low on her breakfast, flickering between the bacon she took and the book she laid in the little space between her plate and the edge.

A slow hush crept over the room, and she saw that the Headmaster had risen. "I have a short announcement to make before we all begin our day of learning. Given that this is the first Halloween that we will spend in this newly reconstructed castle, we will be holding a ball." He ignored the loud excited whispers that traveled over tables. "To the new age of freedom and safety we will celebrate and honor those who have passed. You will all be expected to wear dress robes and dresses for this event. Photos of your past loved ones are welcome and should be given to your Head of House. Thank you. You are dismissed for your classes."

"_Imagine_ that. A _ball!_"

"Like the Yule Ball, I suppose. Is this supposed to raise our spirits?"

"I know what I'm wearing! Oh, I have this perfect necklace -"

"I don't have a dress!"

Ignoring the chatter Hermione took her time dropping her books into her pack, slinging it over her shoulder. Despite being the nearest to the door and not being in any hurry she was still jostled as she made her way down the steps to the dungeons.

Cautiously looking over her shoulder, being sure that Neville was in class, she slid behind the statue. She smiled at the dark shadow, the cold hand that took hers and the surprisingly warm lips on hers.

"Come to the ball with me," Draco said.

She almost said yes, but she thought of the large event, the people that would be there that would see. She thought of Ron and the letter that still had gone unanswered. She thought of how she was the worst girlfriend in history, and she pulled out of his arms, pressing the heel of her hands to her eyes. "No," she said. "No, I can't." Lowering her hands she shook her head, leaning against the statue. "I'm with Ron."

"Ditch him."

She guffawed. "He is my best friend!"

"Then why worry?"

"He's - he's..." What word could there be to describe Ron? "I owe him better than this."

"You don't want to hurt him," he scoffed when she said nothing, and shook his head at her this time, but in a more disgusted manner than she had done. "That's it. You don't want to hurt him. I don't want to hurt _you,_ Hermione, but let's face it, the guy has been a wanker to you -"

"Draco!"

"Tell me I'm wrong! You're used to that."

"You haven't changed," she spat, "you haven't changed at all." Spinning on her heel she furiously strolled into class. It was half-hearted, however, because she expected Draco to grab her arm, pull her back, fight with her more.

He really hadn't changed at all.

Dropping her bag with a _thud,_ she fixated on her cauldron. Neville was looking at her, she could see his reflection in the cutting knife, but neither of them spoke. Neville was mad at her, and honestly, she was mad at herself too. She vowed that she would write Ron that night, tell him... Something. She would tell him something.

Each class piled homework on top of her, and despite that she had turned in a few pounds of it that day she returned with twice that amount. She dumped it on the coffee table and settled in front of it. Being consumed with where to start, on Runes or Muggle Studies, she hadn't noticed that Neville and Seamus were sitting in the chairs across from her.

"That's sure a lot there, Hermione," Seamus commented happily as he was polishing the handle of his broomstick.

"If I'm going to take S.P.E.W. to Wizengamot, I need to be fully prepared in many studies."

Seamus immediately stopped listening when she mentioned her movement for fair Elf rights, and she could tell because he had taken a very sudden interest in the design of his broom handle. Neville, on the other hand, didn't turn away.

"Thinking of being a lawyer," he asked her.

She nodded, "I do think it's the best choice. There's a lot that I want to accomplish but there's laws that need to be changed. Pro-Pureblood laws to begin with. No one is doing anything and the war is over! There's no better time than now!"

"No one better than you to do it," he agreed. He sat down in front of her, bringing his book. "There's a chapter I want your help with."

Just like that, it was as though he knew nothing, but they both knew better. Neville was being kind because that was who Neville was, but he would always know the most horrible secret about her.

When all of her homework had been completed and she had done her usual thrice check over it, making corrections, she joined her sleeping dorm-mates. Except, she didn't sleep right away. Sitting on the edge of her bed, she took Ron's letter, and stared at the wording.

She had promised herself that she would write him. More importantly, she silently promised Ron. Yet, she wasn't moving to do so. Her heart was heavy in her chest, sinking and making her dreading writing someone she had been writing to for eight years.

_Hoot_.

Errol flew in through the crack of the window. He propped up on the nightstand, his eyes closed, clumps of feathers falling from his heavily rising chest. It surprised her greatly that Errol lived as long as he had, and more-so that Ron would risk his flight to be sure that she wrote him. Ron likely thought that she was simply busy with her studies...

Without anymore delays or second thoughts, she gathered her writing supplies and flung the drapes to her bed closed. Under the light of her wand she wrote him. Ink blotted on words in her hurry to finish what she started, stained drops of salt water from her eyes but she would never fix them. Ron should see that it wasn't easy, that she was upset. There should be more proof than unforgiving words on parchment.

_Ron,_

_ I wish to see you, but this cannot wait. I'm so very sorry, Ron, but I think I made a mistake. We were best friends for six years, and with one kiss we jumped into a relationship. You're a wonderful boyfriend, but this moved too quickly. We never discussed so many things, and I don't think we are the same people we were._

_ I'm so sorry._

_With Love, Hermione_

Before she could wonder if she was making a mistake, she rolled up the parchment and cracked open the drapes enough to fix it to Errol's leg. She didn't have the heart to wake him. He would fly off before morning, and all would be done.

Her heart was much heavier than before and her tears flowed faster.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

A week before Halloween, late at night Hermione adorned a shimmery black dress, lined with silver along the hem and around her waist perfectly matching her shoes. Pulling the front pieces of her hair into an elegant sweep, pinning it with a silver swirl of a clip. She applied her makeup carefully, highlighting her brown eyes.

Draco and Hermione had been avoiding each other since that night outside the Potions classroom, but it hadn't felt that long as there were swapped gazes and grazed shoulders. It was as though one them were waiting for the bravery or the right words to begin speaking again. Draco was apparently not going to and so that left her no choice, because she had had enough.

Neville was relaxing, she could tell by the way he smiled at her more, continuing to wait at the bottom of the staircase for her again, believing that it was over. Little did he know that it wouldn't be over if Hermione had anything to do with it. That was why she slipped out of the common room past curfew yet again, to _again_ sneak down to the Slytherin dungeons.

If anyone knew, they would be horrified. She admitted, that although she was fully for house unity, she was a little horrified at herself.

The wizard in the portrait glared at her, instantly recognizing what was recognizable in the light from her wand. "You again," he sneered.

She sighed, gathering herself up for a week's worth of detention when the portrait would report her. Just because most portraits were too lazy to interfere in the lives of students didn't mean that this particular one would not have the joy of having her washing out cauldrons. "Would you please wake Draco Malfoy?"

"_He _is not here."

"Where is he?"

He refused to answer her, finding interest in his black backdrop, and she knew a lost cause when she saw it. Backing away, she hurried up the steps to the main entrance and up seven flights to the common room. She fully expected a lecture from the Fat Lady, or at least a large complaint. However, in front of the Fat Lady was a hunched over boy.

Neville couldn't have possibly forgotten the password as she had been sure to remind him only yesterday. Lifting her light higher she saw that his hair was silver and she drew a breath, her heart speeding up with hope.

"Draco," she whispered.

He looked up slowly, rapidly blinking his eyes in the harsh light, holding up his hand as a shield. "Ugh, turn off that bloody light, Granger."

The light cast them into the darkness, and he stood. When her eyes adjusted she could see him from the light of the moon through the window. As slow as his movements were, his eyes were slower as they took her in. She instantly felt embarrassed for having dressed up.

"What are you doing here?"

"Go with me to the ball - as a friend."

"Do you mean that," she asked carefully.

He took a step nearer. "Lets make our intentions clear, shall we? You'll go with me as a friend to not upset your Weasel, and I'll go with you because I know time with me will change your mind to kick him to the dung side of the road."

She raised her brow. "Are you honestly stating my intentions for me?"

"I _know _you, Hermione."

Shaking her head, she said, "you don't. We had romantic encounters. You don't know anything about me. All you are sure of is that -"

"You're muggle-born willing to risk her neck for two stupid friends. You read every book in sight, worry over your tests before, during and after taking them. You run your quill over your lips when your thinking - unknowing to how sexy it is. When sitting you raise your feet on your toes. I know you well enough to like you and that's my reason for going. If that's not enough for you, go with me to show me who you are."

At some point she realized that her lips had parted, her jaw loose. She knew plenty about him as well: She knew he hated who he used to be, that when he was fearful he lowered his eyes, when he was angered he reacted harshly without thinking. She knew he was intelligent from his posted grades. He had quick reflexes and loved his family more than anything, but he had grown to be vocalized about his preferences, to know what he thought without fear. That he was a wonderful kisser, and the way he looked at her was not spawned with hate. That he waited outside of his rival house for her.

That was enough for her too.

"I want to know what it feels like... To be me," he admitted, the point between his brows wrinkled in discomfort at the truth.

He looked her over once more and nodded his approval. "I'll be your friend, Hermione, but I'll still fight for you." Taking her hands he kissed the spot right below her hairline. Her stomach swooped and lunged.

"Goodnight." Each syllable was Morse Code on her skin.

In spite of herself, she smiled as she let herself into her common room. The Fat Lady never woke but in her sleep allowed her passage. She assumed that she had been in Violet's rum cabinet again.

Inside of her dormitory, throwing herself giddily onto the bed, out of the corner of her eye, she saw her bare nightstand. It worried her. Chewing her lip she wondered how badly she hurt Ron.

She should have reminded him how she loved him. Maybe that would have helped but it was too late to know and she could not possibly sleep without knowing he was okay, and therefore, she wouldn't be able to sleep.

That night, she memorized a new book her father sent. When light poured in through the slit windows and the girls were shuffling them out of their beds did she realize that her wand had been buzzing, nearing the precocious edge. She grabbed it up and snapped her book closed.

Maybe that night she would receive a letter from Ron. From anyone.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

The points of the fork poked gently at the yolk of the egg, popping it open and its yellow juices seeping over her plate. Hermione pursed her lips. She hadn't meant to do that.

"Hermione?"  
She looked up, realizing that Neville had been speaking. "I'm sorry, Neville. I'm distracted this morning. You were saying," she asked helping herself to some toast.

"Is this about the Halloween Ball?"

Seamus looked up, a scowl on his face. "It's cliche, isn't it? A _ball._ It didn't do well last time, did it?"

Neville eyed her and she recalled hearing that Seamus was dumped that night for a Bulgarian boy. Hermione was spared from saying anything when another voice, one a lot silkier hissed in her ear, "hi."

Neville's mouth parted in horror at Draco's indecency to approach her, and Seamus was a mixture of confusion and looking for permission to hex. Hermione ignored them, and greeted Draco. It didn't mean anything. If they were to be friends then they had every right to talk.

"Lost my Potions book. You'll have to sit with me today. Is that okay with you, Longbottom?"

"Leave her alone, Malfoy."

"We're _friends._"

On the sides of his plates, Neville's hands clenched. He was a second away from blasting Draco into the Hufflepuff table. Hermione spoke up quickly, "Neville, I should help him, if he lost his book."

"Yeah," Draco agreed. "You'd know all about losing things, wouldn't you, Longbottom?"

That was it. Hermione stood and roughly grabbed Draco by his robe. The whispers and gasps went past her as she dragged him out of the Great Hall. She was none too gently when she released him into the staircase.

"You can't behave that way, Draco. Those are my friends."

"They hate me."

"Can you blame them?!"

Draco's glare at her was traded for a portrait of a woman coddling her child. At his gaze she turned and hurried out of the frame.

Hermione sighed. "If you want their approval -"

"I don't need anyone's _approval_." He stood, straightening the collar of his robe. "Are you going to help me or not?"

"Don't put me in this position. Don't make me choose." When he didn't respond, she said, "I'll help you. Only this once, Draco."

In Potions Hermione avoided eye-contact with Neville, as she was certain that whatever look he was throwing her was bound to be one of judgment meant to make her feel guilty. She sat with Draco, opening her book between them.

Professor Slughorn began his lesson talking about... Her leg was nudged. She reached down and felt what it was. It was a hand. Her fingers trailed over Draco's palm. He was holding it out for her to take.

Hermione's neck was warm. Peering left and right she assessed that no one seemed to be paying any mind to them. A few were drawing in the corners of their schoolbooks (she would remind herself later to deduct house points from them), a few were staring at a jar of eyeballs like it was a twisted contest.

"Be more obvious, Hermione," Draco sarcastically said, his lips not moving.

Hesitantly, she flattened her palm against his. She tightened her fingers over his knuckles. Gradually, their clasped hands moved on top of her leg.

Ignoring the fire in the pit of her stomach she focused on what Professor Slughorn was saying, but she could have sworn that she saw a glint in his eyes. As if he knew...

Humiliated she looked away, seeing Draco's beige backpack between their seats. It was not properly closed, the flap twisted to the side. She could see the binding cover of one of his books.

It read: Potion Making for the Advanced.

She snatched her hand out of his. It was so sudden that Draco broke pretense and gazed at her wonderingly. She nodded toward his bag, bringing her parchment closer to begin taking notes. It was not needed as Professor Slughorn was in the midst of a story about a student he once had that recently discovered a use for gnomes hair, but if she didn't keep her hands busy then her mind would wander. It would wander to wonders of other lies he may have told.

Draco faced forward, and for the rest of the lesson they sat in a silence that was awkward in spite that it was mandatory.

Each minute passed like an hour, and when they were released she was shaking as she put her things away. In her haste she stumbled over her chair, but she was out of the door far ahead of Draco.

When she reached the library she considered herself home free. Picking out a multitude of books on every subject she was taking she settled for making a fort around herself at the farthest table. One in the corner that was draped in natural light from the large window. It allowed her to spy on her boys once, making sure that they were not lounging by the lake when they were supposed to be spending their time more constructively.

They still didn't know. They would tease her.

"No running in the library!"

Hermione glimpsed up from a particularly big book, ready to deduct points from any house when Draco approached her, clearly out of breath.

"Five points from Slytherin."

Shocked, he gaped at her. Then he took the courtesy of slamming her book closed; her fingers only just escaping.

"I didn't say I'd fight fair."

"Friends don't lie to each other, Draco."

"I won't fight fair."

"That's you, isn't it? You're not going to give us a real chance to be friends."

He sat, placing his hands in his lap. The action was strange, as though he had done it many times. It appeared to be the position a politician would take to debate an important issue. She didn't like seeing it.

"You're taking this out of context."

She stood. Madame Pince wouldn't understand if that once if she didn't return her books, but she simply could not stay. "If we are to put our past behind us, you will have to give me something to trust."

Thoughtfully, he let her walk away. She didn't get far though. Soon, her arm was taken, steering her around to face him.

"No more lies," he promised.

"Is that a lie?"

Wrenching off the ring he wore on his right hand he held it up for her to see. "This is the Malfoy crest. I promise on it." He shoved it into her hand, his eyes bearing into hers.

"Okay, Draco." She clenched the ring. "Okay."

"Charms," he explained, leaving. She watched him go and opened her fist, seeing the thick silver ring in her palm. There was a black and green crest with spears, an ornate 'M' in the center, on either side were water dragons. A banner at the bottom with lettering in Latin read: _Purity Will Always Conquer." _It made her skin crawl in a delicious way. A muggle-born holding the Malfoy ring...

The lines of the crest were embedded in her skin. She traced the outline of the dragon, and glanced back to the doorway, almost expecting him to be there, looking back at her.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

That night, Hermione met Draco in an empty classroom on the second-floor. She breathed deeply waiting for him, and when he came adorned in his black dress robe, he smiled a smile that lit his whole face. It was strange, how someone could look so different when they smiled. For Draco that was especially true as it was so very rare.

"You look beautiful."

She blushed. "You look handsome."

"This is going to be torture."

"Why?"

"Honoring the dead. Imagine me putting a picture of Aunt Bellatrix up there."

She understood instantly and felt uncomfortable. "Do you like to dance?"

"Yes. Fairly good at it too. Mother gave me lessons."

Looping her arm through his, they walked down to the Great Hall. It was decorated with floating Jack-O-Lanterns and skeleton trees with purple fairy lights placed on the outreaching branches. The house tables were gone and the outer edges were round tables draped in black cloth. The walls were lined with photos of people who had passed on, some in black and white, some in color, some stained with age.

Whispers were loud as they entered. People stared, a few pointed, but Hermione pulled Draco next to her before he could give a snap reply, turning their back toward them.

Hermione searched for her grandparents photo, one that she asked her parents to send in, and she found it, near the top, smiling, her grandfather's arm around her grandmothers. It could be seen that she inherited her grandfather's eyes and her grandmother's chin. She smiled, remembering how her grandmother would read to her at night, her grandfather playing scrabble, letting her win one in ten games.

Pointing to the picture, she showed Draco. Inspecting her features he said, "I see the resemblance."

The whispers grew louder and louder, until Hermione spun, ready to tell the lot of them off, when she faced the person she least expected.

"Ron..."

He was really there. Red hair parted in such a dignified way that it made his freckles outlandish. He was wearing a dress robe of black, similar to Draco's, except his was not nearly as soft. The worst was his expression of hurt and disbelief.

"Malfoy," he asked, as if he needed it confirmed - or better yet, denied.

"Ron..." Everyone was staring at them, expecting a fight, hanging onto their every word. "Ron, let's go outside. Lets' - let's talk about this outside." She reached for his arm, but in the most hurtful move he could make, he dodged her, jerking his shoulder back.

The worse part, was that Draco was not making a move to help. He couldn't possible be enjoying it, could he? That seemed like the old Draco and she so very much wanted to believe he had changed.

The wide eyes were burning into her and she grabbed Ron's arm, and reached back and grabbed Draco's. Forcing them out into the Great Hall she pushed them into a secluded and dark spot beside the grand staircase. She let them go and spun to face them, placed in the middle of the emotional brutality.

"_Him?!" _Ron glowered at Malfoy in a way that she had never seen before, not even in their school days. "You've been seeing _him?_"

"Jealous, Weaslbee?" Draco scoffed, "you shouldn't be shocked. Perhaps -"

"Shut it," she snapped at him, and although Draco's eye twitched he did not argue.

"You can't be serious! This is some kind of joke. She's a muggle-born. What do you want with her?"

"The same thing you want with her."

Ron stepped forward threateningly, Draco made a move for his wand, and Hermione pressed her hands against Ron's chest. It was a nightmare, that's what the night was, and it was all her fault. She should have written Ron sooner and she should have never kissed Draco.

"You don't deserve her," Draco spat.

"Better than you - you prejudice git."

Draco pointed his wand at Ron's head, and Ron pointed his wand at Draco's heart. Hermione withdrew hers but before she could make a decision as to what spell to perform to stop whatever was going to happen, Ron lowered his arm. He faced her, and it was a testament to his growth when he asked her the question she least expected him to ask.

"Do you want him?"

Stumbling over her words, she said, "you didn't get my letter?"

"Your letter?"

"I wrote you. I guess... I guess it was never delivered."

Ron's eyes flickered between her and Draco. "Don't write me again, Hermione." He walked away.

"No. Don't. Ron... Ron!" She went to chase after him, but Draco's hand caught her arm, keeping her back. On her heels she turned and her palm crossed his face in a resounding _slap._

To his credit, Draco didn't look surprised. "Come with me." Without question he lead her up the staircase, to another staircase, and to another. They traveled up the castle, until she recognized the door to the second highest tower.

Sweat beaded her forehead, tired not only of climbing (despite the shortcuts they took) but of her confusion. The hold that Draco had on her, on her wrist and her heart was wearing her. It wasn't right, it wasn't fair. Not to her, not to Harry and Ron. She was being cruel.

They stepped outside and he released her. The chilly air swept past her, her hair in her eyes. The sky was dark and cloudy, and thunder sounded in the distance, louder than she had ever heard it. She kept her back to the door, not daring to go further. Draco stood in front of her, in the middle of the space.

"This is where I went to kill Dumbledore."

"I know."

"Mrytle's bathroom? That's where I tried to kill Potter."

"I know," she cried again, over the incoming storm.

"This is who I am."

"I know."

He rested against the edge, looking down, and her heart jumped in her throat. She wanted to pull him back, but she couldn't move. She closed her eyes. Thunder rumbled again, closer.

"I like you, Hermione. I shouldn't when I hated you so. It was hate. What changed, I can't say. You... Made me better. I should hate you for that, but I want you too much. If you want me too, come here."

"Draco. I can't."

He didn't seem to hear her.

She inhaled deeply. It was not as though she hadn't countered her fear of heights before. She had been on hippogriffs, dragons, brooms and thestrals. For Astronomy she had been on the highest tower, but she never dared go near the edge, to look over so close, and the wind was blowing more fiercely, but she took her first shaky step. They felt uneasy, as if she would be carried off to the lake she knew was below.

Thoughts of the icy depths of that lake carried to her bones, and froze them in fright. Coercing them to bend, she began walking again, and to keep her mind on what she was doing she counted her steps. Seven... Eight... Nine... Ten... She watched her silver shoes take her across the stones.

Before she could glimpse up to see how far she had gone, her waist was captured, and Draco's lips were on hers, his fingers tangled in her billowing hair. Every inch of her was warm and relaxed. He took the pain away so easily; effortlessly.

When they parted, she saw that she had approximately ten more steps to the edge. He had met her halfway.

Draco was not perfect. In fact, he was infuriating. Hermione could read all the books she wanted, but she would never understand why she felt the way she felt for the man she once despised. Draco could fight to his heart's content, but in the end, he'd have to accept that it was not a nightmare but a gift.

They needed each other, and for reasons they couldn't understand then but one day would, it was because they were meant for each other. Hate was the missing piece in you that screamed out for healing. Only until you give in do you understand that the right person is what you needed all along.

Hermione kissed his lips, and allowed the night to disappear into them.

Right there on the second highest tower in Hogwarts, they danced to the sound of the storm.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

Two days later, Hermione received two letters. The first was from Ginny informing that the whole Weasley clan was baffled by her decision and that Mrs. Weasley was expecting her to go to the infirmary. The second was from Harry, informing her not to worry about Errol, that he had been found on the coast of Thurso. At the bottom of the very short inquiry was the question, "Malfoy?"

Hermione couldn't bring herself to write them, and she didn't know why. She dressed for the day and while she ignored the stares her dorm mates were throwing at her over their shoulders, she couldn't ignore the rest when she went down into the common room. Thankfully, Neville was waiting for her.

"Thought you'd need someone," he mumbled.

She couldn't express her gratitude. "I made a mess of things, haven't I?"

"Harry and Ron got into enough of it. It was your turn."

She laughed quietly, but she could feel the stares, the whispers that followed her. She always had sympathy for Harry, but then, walking those halls, she knew how he felt. She was on display, and it wasn't for being with a Slytherin, it was because he was a Malfoy. It was because they fought against each other in the war, and it didn't matter that they had switched sides, that Harry had excused him and his family. Draco and Hermione together were a taboo, and she wouldn't lower her head. No, she held it high.

About to take her seat next to Neville in the Great Hall she spotted Draco at the Slytherin table. Blaise Zabini was arguing with him, apparently refusing him a seat, and no one was offering. They all minded their own, some looked like they felt sorry for him, but they didn't offer any seats next to them either.

Hermione bit her lip in thought, and began gathering a plate of food, double scoops of everything she could reach, and two sets of silverware. Taking it, she nodded to a bid of a goodbye to Neville and the others who had stopped eating to watch her. She walked to the doors and caught Draco's eye.

Draco, who had gone red with anger, smiled. He shouldered his bag and they together left their housemates behind. She sat on the bottom step of the staircase setting her plate between them.

"We're not popular," Draco said in passing, taking a bite of egg.

"We are. If they spend their time talking about us, then that qualifies for popularity."

"Mother told me that too."

"If you gossip then you have no room in your head for studies."

He raised a quizzical pale brow, but said nothing. Although, when she chose a bit of assuage she saw out of her peripheral vision that he smiled.

"Hey." Neville was standing awkwardly with a plate balanced in one hand and his goblet in the other. "May I join you?"

Hermione took stock of Draco's expression, but he nodded to Neville. "Yeah," he said simply.

She didn't know where it was coming from, but they made space between them for her friend. While there was a silence, it was not at all the spark of intensity that would normally accompany such a group as them. It gave Hermione a sense that although she had indeed gotten herself in a mess, perhaps it wasn't as doomed as it appeared. Maybe her relationship with Draco would teach people that tolerance and understanding and change can happen. That hope was ever there.

When it was time for them to attend their classes, Hermione moved close to Draco, whispering in his ear, "what changed your mind?"

"You," he responded, not sparing her a glimpse.

From that moment forward months passed in moments. Moments stolen with Draco in Potions, after their duties as Prefects, and during their free periods. Moments of resting in the shade of the tree by the lake, feeding the squid large bits of their sandwiches. Moments of his hand holding hers, the spot below her ear he kissed, and the feel of his breath tickling her hair, his foot against hers in the library as they poured over books.

While she had great years with Harry and Ron, the time she had with Draco was precious and rare. It was the best time in her life.

When December came with its coats and gloves and lit fireplaces in the classrooms, everyone had grown used to seeing her and Draco. They were old news - and speaking of news, Hermione had none from the Weasley's, and very little from Harry. They were fading into memories themselves, and it made her sad, but she hid it from Draco. She didn't want him to think that she regretted him. That simply was not true.

Christmas neared and Hermione contemplated her parents offer to join them in Italy. They were going skiing at her favorite resort. Hermione was in the library, reading their letter over, thinking if she needed to use the extra hours perfecting her Transfiguration work when Draco came in, slamming the books he had in his arms on the table.

"Sh!" Madam Pince ordered.

Draco feigned temporary deafness as he slumped in his seat. "Got a letter from father."

That opening caught Hermione's attention. He usually opened with a complaint about an assignment, but never about his parents. "What did he say?"

"I'm to come home this Christmas, but..." He thought of whether to continue. "But 'without Potter's mudblood.'"

Nodding, she chose her Transfiguration book from the top of her heap bringing it in front of her. "I'm not surprised. People don't change their views of the world easily."

He shook his head. "You're amazing, Hermione. You should hate my father."

"I don't." Lucius Malfoy may have been an ill-informed, elitist git, but he was one who loved his son. Mr. Malfoy only wanted Draco to be safe, and so in his small mind, he thought he was keeping him from making the wrong choices.

"I'm staying here for the holidays."

"Draco -"

He held up his hand, leaning back, his seat on two legs, his foot nudging hers. "I've made up my mind. Father will be upset and mother will cry, but they'll see I know what I'm doing."

Hermione returned to writing her response to her parents.

_Mom and Dad,_

_I hope you have fun, but this year I'm staying here at Hogwarts._

_With Love From, Hermione_

As she folded it, she said, "I'm staying too. We'll have Christmas together."

"Really?"

"Really. Exchanging gifts won't be necessary, of course."

"It better. I bought yours."

She sighed. "I have yours too."

His foot playfully pushed hers and she pushed back, and they chuckled.

"SH!" Madam Pince cried out.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

Christmas morning was greeted with a blizzard. The snow encased in winter's wrath whistled past their windows. The room was toasty warm and it set Hermione in a deep sleep. Only by the bustle of chattering girls like birds did she wake.

She stretched, Crookshanks purring happily next to her leg. She scratched his ear and slipped her feet into her slippers, kneeling in front of her bed where two gifts laid waiting for her. She picked up a thin package in snowflake wrapping. The tag read that it was from her parents. Gently tearing of the packaging she revealed that it was a white wooden frame of the last family picture. It was before she had taken her parents memories. It was creased down the middle and across where she had folded it for her journey of searching for the Horcruxes.

Tears fell as she remembered what she had to do to them. How long she had gone without seeing them, certain that she would never see them again. She touched the photo, taking in their happy faces, and the lit white Christmas tree behind them.

The next present was from Harry wrapped in old Daily Prophets. Inside was a book. About her. She gaped at the title. "The Brightest Witch of Her Age: The Story of Hermione Jean Granger." She opened the cover to the first page, a photo of her greeting her. She was standing in the Atrium at the Ministry, seeing off Harry to his first day of the job. Someone had called her name, and so her face had been relaxed and natural as she turned to answer when the bright light had gone off in her face.

She read the first page of her life, correcting bits in her head and being surprised that some smaller detailed information had been right. She had been so caught up in it that she failed to notice that she was alone in the room, and thirty minutes had passed. She missed breakfast, but she stood to visit the kitchens, and a piece of paper floated out of the front of the book.

_I miss you._

That was all the note said. It wasn't Harry's handwriting. It was Ron's. Her heart ached. She cried.

It was afternoon when she felt she had gathered herself; she went outside. The weather had calmed considerably. The snow was surprisingly only ankle-deep. It was beautiful. The snow drifting softly, the sky a steely gray. She pulled her cap over her ears and trudged across the snow.

That was when a snowball hit her in her back. She spun and one hit her in the shoulder. She gaped as she spotted a thin boy hiding behind the tree near the lake. Silently she packed snow in her hands and waited. When he peered out, she threw, and... Missed him by a good two feet.

Draco stared at the spot where the clump of snow marred the untouched ground, and then up at her. "That was a terrible throw. You have a wand, witch."

"It takes more talent to throw them by hand," she called to him.

"You're right," he agreed, and she slapped his padded feathered coat.

He kissed her. "You're beautiful. Where were you this morning?"

"With memories."

"Here's your gift." From the base of the tree he picked up periwinkle blue skates. He held them up for her to properly see.

She took them, heavy in her hands. They must have been expensive but it was the gesture that meant more to her than she could have told him. Instead of buying her a book like most would or jewelry that many men would have, he got her something that had meaning. But how could he have known? "You knew I could skate?"

"Your mother wrote me."

Her eyes widened. "My mum wrote you? When did she do that?"

"She said you mentioned me." His eyes glittered with joy. "That you were offered to skate at your favorite resort in Italy and you stayed here with me."

She didn't know what to say.

"That was the best gift you could've given me."

She kissed him, and brought out her gift for him from her pocket under her coat. It was a knitted silver and red cap, but it took Draco moments of feeling around it to decipher it. He placed it on his head where it was lopsided and made him look utterly ridiculous. She giggled, and once she giggled she couldn't stop. She was bent in half laughing.

"Funny, Hermione. Very funny."

She didn't delay any longer, she straightened taking his face between her hands, kissing him.

"Our combined house colors," he said, pointing to the hat.

"Us."

Once more he took out something from the base of the tree. He had his own skates, a deep hunter green color, looking as expensive as hers. They sat in the snow and pulled them on. With their gloved hands holding tight, they glided out on the ice.

Draco fell back, taking her with him causing them both to fall hard on their behinds. A hot searing pain shot up her spine and Draco let out a loud curse.

Tears swam in her eyes. "You don't know how to skate?"

"Why would I?" Unabashed he rubbed his behind.

She got back to her feet and held out her hands. "I"ll teach you."

Not looking at all pleased by the prospect, he took her hands. His ankles were wobbly, weak with lack of use. Carefully, she skated backward tugging him in front of her.

"Keep your ankles straight."

"I'm trying!"

"You're doing well." That was a lie, and he knew it.

"I can do a spell -"

"You will do nothing of the sort! Draco, there are things that are better left to being learned the hard way."

"This was supposed to be fun."

She pulled him harder, right against her. "It is fun if you want it to be. Make learning fun."

He kissed the snowflake that had rested itself on her nose, his cold lips landing on hers.

"Merry Christmas, Hermione."

"Merry Christmas, Draco."

It was a shock of cold as he cradled her neck. "I love you."

She searched his eyes, the perfect match for the sky. "Do you?"

"I'm wearing the hat."

She laughed, tugging it over his ears, but not before her answer in fogged syllables were spoken floating between them. "I love you."

He kissed her again, smiling against her mouth, his lips warmer than before.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

Hermione didn't hear from Ron again, and as for Harry, he was head of the Auror Department by February; that was her only knowledge of the friends she had counted as family for so long. It hurt her but she did her best not to think of them. It was normal, was it not? To move on, away from your friends. The changing of the world changed them, and she had accepted that. Apparently, so did Ron.

_Add two twigs of Hawthorne,_ she read as a paper bird flapped under her nose, landing on the page. Draco was grinning at her, and she scowled. It was not an appropriate time, but nonetheless she opened the bird and read on the page, scrawled in neat handwriting that shouldn't have belonged to a boy: _tonight in Room 18 on the 4th floor._

She nodded to him but not without a stern eye to warn him to get back to work. Quickly she swept the bird to the side, adding the twigs before the liquid in the cauldron could change its magenta shade. However, in the back of her mind, she wondered what Draco Malfoy had up his sleeve. Inside, she was a turmoil of excitable emotions that had her stomach hopping.

That night, in her warmest jeans and jumper she stepped out of her common room. The Fat Lady snorted herself awake giving her a quelling stare, to which Hermione took a page out of Draco's book and ignored her.

The castle was freezing. If she was going to be caught it was her chattering teeth that would be blamed. Under her cloak her skin was covered in goosebumps, her nose dripping on the sleeve she pressed to it.

Down on the fourth floor she heard a crash, like dishes against a wall. Peeves!

Hermione chose the closest door to her and shut herself in. Her foot landed in a metal bucket and clanging she fell backward, her back hitting something hard and stealing her breath. Her hand was grappling for purchase but it found old wood that bit her. A shadow eclipsed the little light from the corridor and whatever it was, it hit her nose. She cried out, muffled, her gloved hands over her mouth. Something warm seeped through the knitting.

All was silent, except for her labored breathing. She stopped, still as a statue, her breath held as the light was gone again, this time from the corridor. There was a rude sing-song rhyme about teachers and chalk up "conks" before he passed.

To be safe, Hermione waited. Gently she touched her bruised nose and winced at the throbbing pain in her hand. She was in no condition to see Draco, but she couldn't very well leave him before she saw him. She stood, straightening her clothes.

She found the room and was breathless when she opened the door.

A fireplace was lit, layered blankets and plump pillows before the hearth alongside two glasses of an orange liquid, and candles in every color set on the desks against the wall. It was warm in there, scented sweetly with rose and cinnamon - or at least that's what she thought as her nasal passage was blocked slightly.

"What happened to you," Draco asked discourteously, staring at her from top to bottom seeing what she could only fathom.

"Peeves almost caught me."

Draco, in rolled trousers and a dress shirt, bunched up the bottom of her jumper and pulled it over her head to leave her in her cream-colored top. She gaped in wonder at him as he patiently rolled her sleeves. He then took a bit of her jumper, his hand on the back of her head he pressed it to her nose where the blood was still pouring.

"Oh, Draco, let me."

"I'm not afraid of your blood, Hermione."

"But -"

"I'm not that boy."

She bit back her retort and said softly instead, "I wasn't implying. I meant... You don't have to..."

He set her jumper on a desk pushed to the side. "Anything else?"

She showed him her hand which he inspected for a short moment before he kissed her palm, over the wound, and she felt his teeth. She flinched and looked the other way. There was a small infliction, and then, he was standing straight, pinching the source of her discomfort between his fingertips before pitching it aside.

"You could've used magic," she sighed, "you don't have to prove -"

"Yes. I do." He touched the scar on her neck from his aunt, his fingers dropping between her breasts to her torso where he knew underneath her layers there laid a scar there, too, stretching across her skin.

In the silence she took in the room again. The sight was spectacular, the many colors of the candles played across the walls, their shadows elongated and distorted in the midst of a rainbow. It was the most beautiful sight she had ever laid eyes on. "This is..." She had no words for it. No words were could provide the right sense of astonishment.

"Speechless. That's new," he quipped.

Hermione sat on the pallet, it forming perfectly around her. "How you do this... It's beautiful magic."

He smirked. "I have quite a few talents." He handed her a glass and sat on the pillow next to her.

She didn't let him know, but she didn't mean his talents for changing the color of the fire to purple and blue, or sneaking out of his dormitory, or even taking out splinters flawlessly. She had meant everything that he did was magic. Somehow, he was more good than he was bad - if you searched deep enough. The deeper Hermione searched, the more she fell in love with him. Everything that Draco was, Hermione loved.

Gingerly, she tasted from her glass, a strong and tepid apple cider. "My mum must like you, to tell you about me."

"She's a charming woman. Much like you. But this," he held up his glass, "you mentioned it once at dinner that it was your favorite."

She blushed, flattered that he would remember a passing comment. She took another sip, and thought of her worries for her mother. Her mother didn't trust the wizarding world anymore. In fact, she had trouble trusting her daughter. After the memory charm... Parents wanted to protect their children, and while they understood, they did by no means forgive her. She betrayed them, used magic against them, and she ran off with her friends to save the world. What kind of parent would forgive that?

"Enough about family," Draco said, gratefully changing the subject. "Tonight's about us."

She relaxed, her shoulders slumping. "What do you plan to do after Hogwarts?"

He eyed her critically. "This is supposed to be romantic, Hermione."

"This is romantic."

"And of all the romantic topics you choose work?"

"Okay," she agreed. "But I do want to know."

"I don't know yet."

She gaped at him. "You don't know?! Draco, what did you tell Professor Snape in our 6th Year? You had to have known by then."

He shrugged as if it mattered nothing at all to him, and it was infuriating. "I wasn't planning my future. My future was with the Dark Lord."

"What about your future now?"

"It's with you."

As sweet as that comment was, it made her uncomfortable. She didn't know why. Instead, she said, "you must decide soon. I think... I think I want to be a lawyer. I want to free house-elves and give centaurs better pick of land. The laws need to be improved. And maybe, when I'm done with that, I can move onto eradicating Pureblood laws." She waited anxiously for what he would say, aware that everything she had said would be something the old Draco Malfoy would have been sick over, but this Draco Malfoy, he only nodded and smiled as if he already knew her heart's desire.

Taking their glasses, he placed them by the fireplace and waved his wand, the rainbow dying to darkness, the fire out as if it had not been alive at all. The next thing she knew, he was kissing her. Kissing her to make her forget and kissing her because she meant something she wasn't sure she wanted to mean. It was too much responsibility, but she wouldn't want anyone else having it.

Kissing him back, she could only hear his heartbeat. His heartbeat encompassed her. It was all she felt and all she heard.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

_Mr. Shacklebolt,_

_I was told by Harry Potter that I am to consult you personally as to a job opening in Magical Creature Law. If there is one available I would be pleased to be notified so that I may place in an application._

_Hoping that you are well,_

_Hermione Jean Granger_

_Ms. Granger,_

_Harry was quite right to send you to me. There are three openings available, all of which you can freely take. I will write a letter of recommendation to the head of the department._

_The openings are in London, France, and Bulgaria._

_Please write me as soon as you can with your choice._

_Deepest Regards, Kingsley Shacklebolt_

_Mr. Shacklebolt_

_Thank you ever so much for your help. I hear Bulgaria is lovely._

_Thank you again,_

_Hermione Jean Granger_

_Victor,_

_I apologize for the delay in my letters. I have recently accepted a job in Bulgaria in Magical Creature Law. I am quite excited to all the prospects that this offers, not only in my career but in seeing you. I hope you meant what you said when you graciously asked for me to visit you. I would love to see you again._

_With Love,_

_Hermione_

_Hermione,_

_I look forward to seeing you. Tell me where you'll be arriving and I'll pick you up._

_Victor_


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

Hermione stayed at Howarts during the Easter holidays. Draco was continuing in his stubbornness to not go home. He said that if his parents were not going to admit they were wrong then he had no reason to be in a place where someone he loved was not welcome. It caused Hermione to feel terribly guilty, because when he was telling her about the tear-stained letter he got from his mother that Easter she was thinking of Ron.

Every year she received decorated eggs from Mrs. Weasley. There was one year the eggs were done in spite because of a rumor that Skeeter wrote in the Daily Prophet, and she certainly did not expect any after she hurt her son badly. However, when the owls swooped down from the ceiling she could not help but be disappointed. She helped herself to a piece of sugarless candy that her parents sent, but it did nothing to aid the emptiness in her stomach.

She looked at Draco over her plate. Just like during the Christmas holidays the Great Hall was nearly empty, and they could sit at the same table. Even the teachers joined them at dinner. Hagrid was telling the story of the talking rabbit to a First Year, who looked a little scared of the half-giant and his booming voice.

Hermione looked over at Draco. His hair had grown past his eyes, grazing his protruding cheekbones. He looked thinner and there was a darkness under his eyes that she had noticed weeks ago, but only took time then to appreciate how sick he looked.

"You should go home this summer," she hinted despondently.

"I'm staying with Theo," he said briskly.

"Draco," she half-begged, clinging to the sleeve of his robe, "you must make up with your parents. It's been long enough. You can't let this come between you!"

"No, Hermione."

"You have nothing to prove to me."

"I have everything to prove to you!"

They were getting sidelong glances from that scared First Year that despite being on holiday still chose to wear his Hufflepuff uniform. It wasn't the time or the place, she knew.

"Let's go to the lake."

The back of Draco's knees hit the bench hard, it squealing in protest at his anger. He followed her out, seething, their angry footsteps echoing as loud as their argument.

"You don't understand," he told her.

"Help me to!"

Holding her arm he forced her to stop before the doors to the grounds. "You are good. Light and darkness. You're light and I'm dark. That's how it's always been."

"There is light and dark in everyone, Draco."

"And I lived in the dark. Let me prove to you that I can be good."

She couldn't respond to that. She held tight to his hand, sliding her fingers between his. She saw the lack of gaps and spaces and it made her believe that there was none in life. No gaps and no spaces between them. Nothing that couldn't be reached by time.

Those thoughts dissipated when she led him outside. Spring brought the sense of brightness and freshness. It was like putting on clothes fresh from the dryer, the first breeze of the sun in baby blue skies. She knew there was no better time and place.

Under their tree, she faced him. Once more she took in his disheveled state and reaffirmed that she was doing what was right.

"We need to talk."

Draco, who knew nothing of muggle lines, knew that something bad was going to happen. Although he was staring hard at the lake to his left, she knew he was listening, waiting for the inevitable.

"At the end of this term, I'm going to Bulgaria. I was offered a position there working in law for magical creatures. I'll be doing _everything_ I dreamed of."

"Why Bulgaria? Are there no positions here?" He blinked and it dawned on him; he glared at her. "Victor Krum lives in Bulgaria."

"Draco, don't you think this happened too fast?"

"No. It happened. I'm past trying to work out how or why."

Her heart, it was killing her. His eyes and his pain. It was killing her. She wished she could forget for the moment, forget what transpired over the past year and return her mind to the time where he wasn't anything more than a bully.

"I hurt my best friend. I hurt a family because of this."

"And I left mine!"

"Yes! That's why this is not good. Draco, we're hurting people -"

"I don't care! I don't bloody well care. You're what I want. I made my decision that day in Potions."

"It's not worth it to me - hurting our friends this way." It was a half-lie of great proportions, but because she was all but crying he didn't doubt that what she said was true. She needed that: His trust. She needed his trust to betray him.

Bowing to look her straight in her watery eyes, he said, "you are being a coward. You're being a coward, Hermione."

"Don't call me a coward," she snapped, but she couldn't hold onto that flare of anger. It didn't last long when his face was no longer vindictive but sad. She would give anything, anything at all to remember who he used to be and forget who he became. Anything...

"This is it then? This is what you want?"

Sniffling, she nodded, closing her eyes, breaking the dam. The tears flowed over her hot cheeks, searing her skin. "I'm sorry." She couldn't bear to say his name, but in her head, it was spoken: _Oh, Draco._ "I'm sorry."

"I love you. I'm willing to give you whatever it is that you want. This is it, Hermione. Me and you. I won't fight for you anymore. I want you to want me too. Until then..." He turned away, shaking his head instead of finishing.

"Draco," she croaked but he didn't pause. She cried, her arms around her stomach for comfort, leaning all of her weight on the tree. Broken and in pain, she wallowed in her despair.

Sinking into the fresh grass, she clutched her shattered heart. In her pocket, digging into her thigh, she felt his ring. He didn't know it, but she kept it on her.

Draco vanished beyond the doors of Hogwarts.

She made the right decision. She had to let him go. She couldn't keep him. He wasn't hers to keep. Love was not supposed to hurt. But it did. It hurt.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

No one but Hermione's parents knew about her position in Bulgaria, and since her parents were on their second honeymoon she arrived at 9 3/4 alone. Across the platform she spotted Draco, but he pretended not to have seen her. There was an ache and a relief in knowing that she couldn't go back. She had to keep moving forward.

There was that part of her that would never forgive herself for the hurt that she put Ron through. Loyal Ron who had never on his own will abandoned her, and when he was pressed to do it at the trapped soul in the locket, he did everything in his power to make it up to her - even if he had been too agreeable.

None of them deserved what she had done, the betrayal she caused to Harry and Ron; tearing apart Draco's family. That was why she had to leave. That was why she picked up her trunk and rolled it behind her on her way through the barrier. She blended in well with the crowd in her worn cut-off jeans and tank-top. She would walk to the nearest hotel and stay for the night before she traveled to the Ministry. They were opening a special connection there that will send her right to her new office. She was anxious for it, to get started in her new life.

The hotel looked like it was built as an afterthought to the train station. It was cramped between it and a French cafe that she instantly decided she would dine at. It was confirmed when she walked into the hotel, it smelling of stale cigarettes. She was glad to be only staying a night.

Pastel flowered wallpaper were peeling, there was a loud drip from the sink and the carpet was noticeably stained that awful gray color. _Only for a night_, she told herself as she set her trunk by the fireplace. _Only for a night,_ she told herself again when she thought of washing her face but was turned off by the brown liquid that spouted from the tap.

She would stay at the cafe a little longer, and when she arrived in Bulgaria she would do a short meet-and-greet and go right to a nicer hotel for a night for a shower. Then, she would meet Victor. He was in need of a flatmate and she was in need of a permanent place to stay. The rest would sort itself out.

Sitting in a corner cafe table, she allowed herself to think of her school days with Harry and Ron. The times that they sat by the fire in the Gryffindor common room, laughing at a joke Ron told, scheming with Harry, doing their homework, and her doing their work. Even the time when they were on the run, living in a tent in numerous places throughout Britain.

Sipping her coffee she wondered where they were at, if they were well, and if they, too, were thinking of her. They wouldn't know where she went. The Weasley's wouldn't care, but would Harry one day think back on her? Would he care? The lack of communication, her mistakes, they created a chasm between them that she couldn't cross. Maybe none of them cared anymore.

Hermione had never felt more alone than she did at that moment, thinking of foolish things drinking her coffee that did not taste as good as coffee really did in France. She would know as she had been in France, visiting museums with her father, drinking latte with her mother. It was a good holiday. It was the last one before she attended Hogwarts.

She fingered the cup's elegant swooping handle, peering out the window to the passerby's hoping to recognize one face, but the probability of that was outrageous. Harry, though would've been optimistic. He would have stayed there all day in his stubborn streak if it meant seeing who he wanted to see. That was Harry.

If she was to miss anyone more than she would miss Draco, it would be Harry. Possibly one day when she was thinking back on the days she was thinking back on then, she would write to him, to simply know that he was keeping himself safe - maybe to know that all of them were safe; to know that it hadn't all been one long and incredible dream.

The sun had set itself low in the pink and orange sky. She tucked her tip under the saucer and left for her new life. Unfortunately that new life begun in a room that smelled like an ashtray, but she refused to accept the idea that there were such things as bad omens. No, this was a small hiccup in a bigger and better start.

That knowledge, it passed right through her as she sunk into the weak spring bed and cried into her hands. Her rib cage broke open and her heart flooded out. And no one heard her. No one knew that the last time they saw Hermione would be the last time they saw her for a very long time.

_Mom and Dad,_

_I'll miss you while I'm in Bulgaria. Please send pictures of your second honeymoon, I heard it is beautiful there this time of the year._

_I am currently at the hotel, but I will be leaving early tomorrow. I promise to write often, to keep you updated. Thank you for being so supportive of me, through Hogwarts and the dangers it has brought._

_With Love, Hermione_

* * *

A/N: This is the end of Part One. Part Two coming soon!


	17. Part 2 - Chapter 1

**Part Two**

**Chapter One**

The tiny bronze key slid effortlessly into the lock. The suitcase echoed its bang in the vacant lounge. The cup on the mantle was freshly supplied with Floo Powder. There was not a single speck of dust to be seen. She would have to send a thank you letter to her Realtor.

It was a cookie cutter white shingle house in a straight-laced community. There was a small kitchen, a small garden with roses and jasmine, plenty of cupboards and there were lots of windows; in the afternoon it was basked with fresh light. And while she had loved it at the time she bought it, she hated it then.

Hermione Granger's new home reeked with loneliness.

She didn't regret living with Victor. He was a kind man, an attentive listener. It was a wonderful seven years they spent together, and she would always cherish the moments they had, the spontaneous dances while she tried to cook, the mornings she would read the paper as he came in from jogging to kiss her. Victor was nearly perfect, and she questioned her sanity every time he asked her to marry him only for her to shut the lid on that green ring box.

To be fair, she warned him that she wasn't to stay there for good, and when she realized how cruel she was being, she did try and stay someplace else. Of course, Victor would not have it, insisting that they belonged together, that they could make a go of it if she would allow herself.

She hoped that one day he would forgive her for leaving; the same hope she held for Harry and Ron.

Hermione didn't know how lost she felt after the war when she took account of what happened nearly directly after. The accumulation of everything they fought for was over and they won. She remembered feeling an all-encompassing bright light. She had a future - they all did. Only... She fell in love with Draco, and all the dreams she held of being with Ron were suddenly gone. All because of her foolishness.

It was a necessary to take the job in Bulgaria. Not only did she set her own fears and doubts in line in her mind, she did better the magical creatures in the country. She was looking forward to her position in London, to set the same example for England.

Leaving her suitcase to be unpacked later she walked out to her garden. The air was crisp with spring air. New beginnings.

Her knees in the dirt, she inhaled the scent of the pink rose petals. She could almost smell the magic that kept them growing, no matter the weather. She would undo the spell, because smelling roses everyday was like Christmas every Friday. It would lose its meaning and the magic wouldn't be magic anymore.

Inside she steeped her tea and sat in the middle of her empty lounge, bringing her suitcase near. She brought out a pen and paper she stashed in the zipped top.

_Dear Mom and Dad,_

_I'm pleased you enjoyed the teapot I sent. I worried packing it, it has been a long time that I have sent a package through muggle post! Does it not have the most beautiful pattern? It reminded me of your garden, dad._

_I'm safely at home. My travels were easy. I will tell you all the details when I ring._

_Love From, Hermione_

Giving out a long whistle she rolled it into a scroll and tied a silver ribbon around it. Lemuria, her beautiful snowy owl that she liked to think was a close relative of Harry's, flew in. She tied the letter to her outstretched leg before she flew out into the indigo sky.

Tomorrow she would surprise Harry and Ron at the Ministry. She was anxious to see the looks on their faces. Seven years was a long time... She hoped they would recognize her. Most of all, she hoped they would care.

She fingered the ends of her hair that grazed her shoulders, sleek and straight with an easy gel she made. She looked at her sun-kissed hands and the freckles that traveled up her arms from her weekends at the beach.

Tomorrow was a new day, one in which she could begin repairing what she had broken.


	18. Part 2 - Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Hermione's heels clicked on the marble Atrium floor. It was nearly drowned out by the people that briskly made her way around her slow path, taking in everything. There was the white-marble fountain sparkling gold water and the fireplaces sparking green flames, wizards and witches coming and leaving.

It hadn't changed much. It was as shiny and grand as it ever was. The lift jerked her upwards, paper birds flapping over her head. It was as though she never left, and if it was dark and deserted she could have been fifteen again, running along it with Harry, Ron, Ginny, Neville and Luna to save Sirius. She was a Hogwarts student on the brink of expulsion. She could not believe that she allowed so much time to pass before coming home.

At her stop, in the dizzying long hallway, there was a door with a shiny plaque that read in silver lettering: **Head Auror: Harry James Potter.**

Gingerly, she touched the cold steel, feeling the dip of his name. She rapped her knuckle on the wood, and held the knob but it flew from her hand and what she saw stalled her breath in her lungs.

Harry sat on top of his desk, Butterbeer in hand and Ron lounged in a chair, foot extended out taking a large gulp from his mug, and Draco beside Harry on the desk biting into a green apple. They were cozy, all smiling, Harry in the middle of a gut-wrenching laugh.

Upon seeing her, Ron spluttered, the orange drink spilling over his front and Draco's apple lowered slowly. Harry, his face unreadable, alone took it in stride, setting his drink aside and embracing Hermione, who remained as shocked as Ron and Draco.

In her ear Harry whispered, "your mum told me." He let her go and patted her arm reassuringly, but it did not feel that way, it felt like a push. Harry had gotten stronger.

"Whataya doin' here," Ron spat, mopping up his mess with the sleeve of his robe.

"I asked for a transfer," she answered, unable to be ruffled by his rudeness.

"And Vicky?"

"That is none of your business." Her eyes locked with Draco's when, her voice barely above a whisper, said, "I've missed home."

"Welcome back," Harry congratulated, handing her his Butterbeer.

With its chill the glass burned her fingers but she gratefully took a sip. The sweetness overloaded her senses, it bringing with it a torrent of childhood memories. She set it down, her shaking hands wiping the foam from the top of her lip. She couldn't help but stare at Draco who instead of wearing a traditional business robe wore a muggle suit, his hair slicked back, making his face appear more pointed than it was.

"How are you, Draco?"

Draco smacked his apple on the table as he sneered at her. He stood and straightened his tie. "For your information, I'm an Auror now."

She couldn't imagine them allowing a former Death Eater into the Ministry ranks, but she tried to look happy for him. "Congratulations."

He shook his head as though he could not stand one more moment in her company, and he strode past her, slamming the door. She flinched, but not because of the crack the wood gave, but because he had been there, offsetting her reunion with her friends, and she was terribly confused.

"No one's glad to see me," she asked Harry and Ron, crestfallen. It was not what she hoped for, what she had envisioned when she came back. She did not expect fanfare after her actions, but the reality was cruel.

Ron stood, his forefinger and thumb holding out the dark wet spot on his robe. "What did you expect," he asked harshly. "You left."

"It was my job, Ron!"

"You could've gotten a job here. You didn't write any of us for ages. After all we've been through together you shut us out!"

"Ron... I – I was busy."

"That's a crappy excuse."

"I thought you hated me... If I wrote, would you have written me back?"

"You're right. I do hate you." Ears as bright as radishes, he too slammed the door on his way out.

She looked to Harry helplessly, her fingers nervously wounding the front of her blouse. "Honestly, I didn't mean to cause such a fuss."

Harry nodded and awkwardly splayed out his arms. With a tiny whimper in her throat, she took refuge there.

"Seven years is a long time, Hermione. We've missed you. Ron, he took it hard. It was an insult to break up with him and it was an insult to be with Draco, but leaving was the worst you could've done."

"I really messed up."

"Give him some time and he'll come around."

She couldn't say it aloud, but Ron wasn't the one she was worrying about.

Over his shoulder on his desk she spotted a cluster of frames, inside them movement. She broke away from him to see a small version of him with and other Ministry workers at what appeared to be a bar and another of him and the Weasley's. They were all there, but multiplied. Bill and Fleur had their arms around their beautiful daughter and beside her a boy with neon blue hair that could only be Teddy Lupin. It pained her to see all of them, the family she had spent summers with. A family she left.

The other photos were of him and Ginny. Ginny in a white dress, Ginny holding a newborn with tufts of black rocking the baby wrapped tightly in a blue cloth. He appeared to be either singing or telling him a story.

She picked up the picture of a little boy crawling and grinning a toothless grin, in his grip a stuffed dragon. "Is this your son," she asked, her voice cracking.

He nodded with pride. "James."

Tears stung, a bludger in her throat. "He looks like you."

"He has Ginny's eyes."

She set the photo down, her fingers lingering on the black frame. The boy fell on his stomach, but he giggled, giving a toothless grin.

"I've missed everything. It's like I don't belong here."

"Of course you belong here."

She turned to him, the tears she tried to suppress escaping out of the corners of her eyes. "Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry I didn't tell you where I was. Any of you. I... I felt that I made such an error that everyone would hate me."

"We could never hate you, Hermione - no matter what Ron says."

"How are you not mad at me?"

"For seven years you risked your life to be my friend. You never left. Not once. If you needed seven more years to be away... I owed you that. I owe you everything."

"No, you don't. I haven't been a good friend..."

He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Every Sunday the Weasley's have a family dinner. You're invited."

"But Ron -"

"I'll talk to Ron."

She hugged him and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Thank you for everything. I'll make this up to you somehow. But right now, I have to make this right. Excuse me, Harry."

Two doors down was a plaque that beared Draco's name. In her rush to have the conversation she should have had six years ago she barged right into his office. She didn't take in the cherry wood furniture or lack of personal items. Only him, his suit without the smallest crease, his mouth pressed into a frown. He sharply turned to her, and then he leaned against his desk, his arms over his chest.

"You have some nerve there, Granger. If you cannot read English now, that plaque on the door there has my name on it, which means this is my space you are discourteously evading."

Without breath, the words spilled out in the distance between them. "I love you. I have loved you all along and – oh – I was too thick to realize it. It wasn't about Ron. I was afraid."

His visage softened but his words could cut glass. "Afraid of what?"

"That you'd realize that being with a mudblood was a mistake. Your family disowned you and one day you would've woken up and realized that you made a terrible choice, that I wouldn't be what you wanted. We would have resented each other. I couldn't let you make that decision."

"It was my decision to make, Granger."

"I know and I know it's been a long time but time does not change who you love. I've tried to forget you, but here I am - I'm back for good, and if you change your mind about me then I'll take the risk of being with you because I love you. You are all I want."

It was a testament to Draco's shock at her words that he didn't stop her as she flung herself at him. Arms around his neck, she kissed him hard on the mouth, pouring in the years of desire and dreams she had of him.

It was a taste she had almost forgotten, stored in a box in her mind to never be opened until it faded into nothingness and she could be free, but it all came back and with a vengeance that could not be fought. The feel of him, the spark of his fire and the chills of his fingers. It was almost forgotten how tightly he held her hips, like he would never let go, and how he raised himself over her, pushed and pressed against her. How hot his mouth was...

Suddenly, it was gone. He backed into his desk, his fingers in his hair, the strands falling to frame his face. Her fingers found swollen lips, feeling her rapid pulse beneath the skin.

"Draco -"

"Get out."

"But, we -"

He stood straighter and held open the door. "It's too late. I have someone."

It was as exactly as she expected. Fumbling, she brought out the ring from her pocket and shoved it into his palm. As quickly as she came she left. It was painful enough to feel her undoing but for the man pulling the thread to see it was too much.

Harry was in the hallway, as if waiting for her. She sniffled and attempted a weak smile for him. "You're right. Seven years is a long time. People change."

Hermione wished she had stayed in Bulgaria. She was a fool to hope for a home she left behind.


	19. Part 2 - Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

The _clunk_ of the bottle of red wine against the wood flooring sounded louder in the empty lounge. Hermione's furniture had been delayed but would be delivered bright and early tomorrow. For the time being she sat on the woodblock, her back to the wall. Uncorking the bottle she told herself she wouldn't drink anymore of, she tipped its contents in her mouth.

She was never one for alcohol (celebratory days aside), but that day was particularly dreadful and somehow she thought she earned a relaxing drink. Nothing else would get her mind off Draco, her books were still being delivered and her first day of work was a week away.

The sky was splattered with the orange of the sunset. It was beautiful and it felt wasted. She looked down at her bottle and took another drink.

Perhaps she was drinking too much.

She took another swig and tried putting the papers she was rifling through into a neat stack. They were all articles that were at the base of her door when she arrived home. Some from the Quibbler and some from the Daily Prophet and every one announced important moments in her friend's lives that she missed.

_Former Death Eater an Auror?_

_Draco Malfoy, Former Death Eater, Works Alongside Auror Ron Weasley_

_Draco Malfoy Not Seen Out of Office. Distrust?_

_Head Auror, Harry Potter Spotted Arguing with Draco Malfoy._

From what she gathered, Harry was not allowing Draco into the field. She suspected it wasn't because of lack of trust, but something else. If Harry was confident enough to hire Draco then it had to be more than what the papers were leading to.

When she reached the bottom of the pile, her suspicions were proven right. There was a note near the bottom of the pile, the handwriting looped and crooked and familiar: _They were wrong. Draco was angry by your absence and Harry claimed that caused mistakes._

That was it. There wasn't a name. She thought perhaps if she hadn't had her red wine then she could remember exactly who wrote it.

There was a knock on the door, but with her eyes closed, her heart slow, she thought it was a dream. There was another bang, louder so it jolted her awake. When she opened the door, the cooling air swept her face and woke her gently. She saw that Draco was standing there, his hair not as slick as she saw it earlier that day, it was a mess. He must have been running his hands through it.

"How dare you," he echoed in the lounge, it ringing its cutting edge into her ears. He invited himself in, standing next to the wine bottle, spinning himself toward her like a madman. "You come into my office after seven years and behave like nothing happened. No apologies or -"

"I'm sorry."

"It's too late."

"I am sorry," she pleaded, wringing her hands nervously. "I shouldn't have left but I can't turn back the time, Draco. I wish I could. I was foolish - afraid. Surely you can understand. I'm just a mudblood, right?"

He came dangerously close to her, his forehead nearly touching hers. "Seven years. I haven't spoken to my parents over a mudblood who left me seven years ago. You weren't _any_ mudblood and because of you I despise anyone who dares says that you are. I despise my family and my raising - as good as it was it was ill-informed and dangerous. I missed you for seven bloody years, Hermione. Did you care?"

"Of course I cared. Draco... I thought of you every day."

"Then why didn't you write?"

"I had nothing to say except that I was sorry."

"Then why didn't you say that?"

"Because you would have wanted me to come home and I couldn't. You weren't planned, Draco. I felt guilty."

Draco looked revolted. "That was stupid." And without another word, he took her face and kissed her deeply, passionately. His lips were hard on hers, rough on her teeth, bruising her, molding until they were one person. He clawed at her blouse, bringing her flush against him. His mouth moved with no gentleness over her neck, nipping at the skin, pulling it.

She was no better. She dug her nails into his shoulders, down his arms, down his sides. She was on her tiptoes for better access, to move more into him. Nothing else existed but the hurricane he was causing inside of her.

They were no longer in their childhood days of sweet touches and bittersweet kisses. No, they were adults, and they had gone too long without each other. She would compare the memories of their school days later, and she would find that they were both beautiful in their own way, but the way they were then, they were like angry lovers. Lovers who could not waste a single second, because when dawn approached reality would set in.

Somehow they tore through the hallway and collided with the mattress on the floor, all without parting from each other. They couldn't be pried from each other.

The night, it was a hazy sort of beautiful that you can only get when you stared into eyes like the storm and swam through dark clouds. But the storm had broken and light poured in through the windows, spilling across her bare stomach.

Draco's hair was brighter in the dim light, more white than blonde, his skin paler. She leaned over him, and stared at his lips that were puffy, like hers, his shoulders sporting crescent shaped bruises. She kissed them, and kissed his lips.

His lashes fluttered and he smiled as he touched her hip. "Hi," he groggily greeted.

She rested her chin on his chest, staring up at him, drinking him in. "Tea or coffee?"

"None. I have to go. I'm late."

She rolled to her side, propping her head on her hand. Then, she remembered something she should have remembered the night before. Horrified, she said, "oh! No! Draco!" She reached over to her suitcase and began throwing out clothes, throwing on the first shirt and jeans her hands came across.

"What has your knickers in a twist?" He chuckled, "you're not wearing any."

She stood. The gel had worn off and her hair must have looked like a wild cat had died upon it. She pulled it back into a band, but strands still fell around her face. "You have someone."

He picked at a loose thread of the mattress, not paying her any mind.

"Don't you have anything to say?"

"I lied."

Her hands paused on the socks she went to grab. "I... I don't understand."

"It's simple, Granger. I lied. You deserved to come back and me have moved on. But... No one was ever you."

Slowly, she sat down. He reached over and touched a strand of her hair, wounding it tightly around his finger. It looked like an ill-fit cinnamon band of some sort. He let it fall, it springing back into place.

"I deserved it," she admitted.

"There's only you, Hermione. You're the only real thing to me."

Just like that, it felt like the world was coming back together.


	20. Part 2 - Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

"Hermione, this lasagna is heavy."

She watched as Draco lugged the four lasagna's up the steps of the Weasley's front porch. His steps were uneasy, his face screwed up.

"You volunteered to carry them," she reminded him and knocked on the door.

Draco cursed at the chickens clucking angrily under his feet, carefully balancing the glass pans. "Because I'm a gentlemen, Hermione, but even we gentlemen get hernias."

"You're quite dramatic when you're put out."

"I am not dramatic."

She pressed her hands to the window and peered in, but the it was a clear blue day, and it was impossible to see inside. "I don't think anyone's inside. That's odd. We should go around the back."

He grunted and sighed as he made the last step. "It's in the garden. I told you they eat in the garden on Sundays."

"Mrs. Weasley is usually in the kitchen. I didn't see the light on."

With a slew of muttered curses he hobbled down the steps, trailing behind her on the dirt path around to the garden gate. Events began happened very quickly then. George popped in front of her out of nowhere, opened the gate and pulled her to the side as a purple balloon soared heavily through the air and everyone followed its motion right into the face of Draco where it exploded and soaked him. The dishes fell out of his hands and crashed between the posts of the gate, the food splattering.

Hermione clapped her mouth shut, and repressed a giggle at Draco's outraged face, the fringe of his wet hair in his eyes, drops of water off of his nose and chin. He drew out his wand, and asked loudly, "who did it?" He spotted George, who placed Hermione dead set in front of him and proclaimed, "it wasn't me, mate."

"All you gingers look the same!"

George laughed and they began a light show of dueling. Their wands moved almost lazily. George doubled over in a fit of giggles that Draco caused by a spell under his arm, and Ron sent Draco painfully on his bum.

Hermione watched the activities that seemed rehearsed. It was apparent they had done this before. All of the playful banter and sparring, it was all done before and many times over before Hermione came back. She knew that Draco was invited every Sunday but she had imagined that he not-so-gracefully turned down every one. She hadn't imagined in her wildest dreams that not only did Draco had Sunday dinners with the Weasley's, but that he enjoyed their company. It was surreal to see him running with his old enemies, laughing in a way that she had never seen Draco laugh in school. It was real and kind.

Ginny walked up beside her. Like everyone else, she looked slightly different - older. Her hair was cropped short to her shoulders, bags under her eyes, and there was tummy when there used to be a flat stomach. On her hip was a little boy with Harry's coal-black hair and Ginny's warm brown eyes.

"He's handsome," she told her softly.

"Like his father."

She saw the small diamond on her left hand, and it hurt Hermione's eyes. "I'm sorry I wasn't there. I should have been."

Ginny's tone was lofty and disapproving. "Harry tried to find you, you know. He did everything short of plastering your picture on muggle milk bottles. I was angry at you for years. I think I still am."

"I won't leave again."

"Oh, I know you won't," she half-shrugged. "We have a lot of catching up to do, but in the meantime..." In a brighter voice, she spoke to her son, "James, this is Aunt Hermione." Then, she unloaded the boy into Hermione's arms. He was heavier than he looked, and he grinned up at her toothless and mischievous.

"I'm going to steal a cupcake from mum." And she sauntered away.

Hermione smiled gently at James. "Hello, James. I'm your Aunt Hermione." She took his tiny finger, it curling around hers. "If I knew about you, I would've been here a long time ago."

Draco, soaking wet and beaming from ear to ear, raced up to them. "James," he sing-song happily, taking the giggling baby from her hold, and holding him up to make a bubbly sound from his lips which James laughed at. Draco propped him on his hip, and looked to Hermione, his smile wavering. "Something wrong?"

"No. Nothing." She wiped a stray tear. Draco with Harry and Ginny's baby was a more surreal sight than any she had seen yet. "I ought to help Mrs. Weasley with dinner."

Inside of the warm kitchen, Mrs. Weasley, a plump woman was scolding Ginny. "Nice try, Ginny." She placed the cupcake back on the tray, but as Ginny turned, Hermione saw her taking a bite of another she had hidden behind her.

"Hermione!" Mrs. Weasley laid down her ladle at the sight of her, and gave her a hug that nearly made Hermione breathless. "Harry told us you'd come, dear. We thought you might... Well, that is not important. You're here. Mind taking this tray out?" She motioned at the tray of tall glasses of lemonade.

From then on, it was as though she hadn't left. She walked outside with the glasses, setting the tray on the picnic table, the boys and Ginny gathering around. Mr. Weasley kept her from the kitchen for ten minutes discussing IPods with her, a device that Bill gave him last Christmas that Mr. Weasley took apart and could not put back together.

"These muggles, they are ingenious!"

Draco touched the small of her back, and she leaned into him. This went without notice to Mr. Weasley, who had gone on to talking about other ingenious devices that muggles invented to get along with magic, such as mobile phones. He had a collection of chargers in the shed right next to his large assortment of plugs.

Ron stood behind his father, sorting the eating utensils. Briefly he caught Hermione's eye. She excused herself, and left to the living room with him where Victoire sat with a magenta-haired Teddy playing a sort of board game with flying pieces she didn't recognize.

"I'm sorry for snapping at you," Ron said, his freckled face contorted shamefully. There was more of a sense of maturity in the way that he stood there, tall and straight, no hint of smile about his lips, and not shying away. He was looking into her eyes with a sincerity she was not used to fro him. "I never did make things easy for you."

"You're okay with this," she asked earnestly.

"You shouldn't have left," he said fairly, "you should've sent an owl." He stuck his hands deep into the pockets of his robe. "But I can't be angry at you. When you and Harry needed me most, I left, too."

"That wasn't your fault, Ron, the horcrux -"

"I know. But I should've spoken up about it instead of being stupid. I was stupid a lot."

"You have to know, I never wanted to leave, but... I was destroying everything, your trust and Draco's family. It wasn't supposed to be that way. It's not what I had planned."

"You don't plan life, Hermione. Didn't those years with us teach you anything?"

"It taught me that I had something great, and I messed it up."

"Dunno what that feels like."

She laughed and teared up, throwing her arms around Ron's neck. Tentatively, he hugged her, his hands gentle on her back. The familiarity and the comfort were overwhelming, like a childhood blanket surrounding her. Silently, she thanked Harry for talking to him.

There was a soft touch on her shoulder. She turned and Draco nodded to Ron, taking her hand. "Dinner's ready," he said.

With Ron, they walked outside to the enormous table, soft balls of yellow lights hanging in the air. Everyone bustled about, filling their plates. She looked around at her pseudo family. At Mrs. Weasley who came out to scold her husband for keeping the kids from helping, to Harry and Ginny feeding James, to Ron and George having a spirited game of Gobstones while Bill and Fleur and their daughter Victoire watched.

It felt official then. Hermione was home.


	21. Part 2 - Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Ashwood furniture, a deep blue couch and white curtains. The bed was lovely, a four poster with thin netting. It was something she had favored in Bulgaria. However, her pride and joy were the shelves she fixed into the walls of her bedroom, crisscross to make a severely misshapen bookshelves. The ultimate haven. It was well worth the wait.

When everything was in its place she settled in a chair out in her garden with a warm cup of tea. The air was a touch cool but the light specks the stars were giving was pretty.

Tomorrow, Hermione would return to her job at the Ministry. It was her last free night and she chose to spend it with tea and a pink sunset. From behind her, Draco's arms wrapped around her shoulders, his lips kissing the soft spot behind her ear, and it was then perfect.

She rose and as he sat in the white wicker chair bringing her onto his lap. He took the cup from her and took a sip and cringed. "Not enough sugar."

"You don't want your teeth to rot out, do you?"

"I forgot your parents clean muggle's teeth."

"They do more than that," she chastised, but it was hard to be too mad at him in their position.

Together they watched their source of warmth float down into the earth. She laid her head on top of his, seeking out the little heat he had.

"Hermione?"

"Mm?"

His thumb moved over the crest of his ring, the one she had given back. "Why did you keep it all this time? Why didn't you send it back to me?"

She felt the burn of a blush coat her cheeks. "I wanted something of you to keep. I didn't plan to keep it forever."

"I have another question."

She leaned into him, her head in the crook of his neck. "Anything," she sighed.

"Will you ever marry me?"

She pushed herself up, peering at him incredulously. "Are you... Proposing?"

"No," he said strictly. "I want you to promise you won't leave again."

She touched the stubble of his cheek. "I'm not going anywhere. I promise you, I will never leave you again, no matter what gets in our way."

He seemed assuaged, but his hand tightened on her hip and the corners of his eyes tightened. "I should trust you."

"I have to earn it."

He shook his head vehemently. "No. Not you. Never you. You're the only person in the world I can trust. You left hoping my family would return; you left with a good heart, Hermione, and I envy that. I'm too selfish. I want you too much." He gripped the back of her neck, bringing her forehead against his. "I'm scared of myself. I'm scared of what you've done to me."

Hermione kissed him, their fingers meeting. She thought of the great distances they traveled, exploring the vertebra of her spine, the contours of her collarbone, and how his fingers knew every part of her. Her tongue sought his, and he lifted her up and over him, and she found himself straddling him. If she could never make him believe that she was his for good, then perhaps she could show him.

And show him she did, right out on the dewy grass under the night sky, the stars and moon as a witness. Draco hand lazily encased hers, both of them counting the specks above them. In perfect time, one streaked across the sky.

"Make a wish," she told Draco.

"You're wishing on dying stars?"

She closed her eyes, wished for them to last. Then, she looked over, and saw that Draco kept his eyes closed. When he opened them and saw her looking at him, there was a slight pink on his cheeks, and she kissed each blush.

"You're inane, Hermione."

"You mean insane?"

"No, inane. It means -"

"I know what it means," she harked, but laughed.

"Let's go inside, it's chilly."

The fire sparked and the wood crackled. Two empty mugs of hot chocolate sat on the floor. Draco's voice, deep and soothing read to her a new book on her new couch, lulling her lids to close. Exhaling contentedly, she tried to focus on the words that he was saying instead of only being warmed by his words, but it was difficult and she felt sleep approaching. His slender fingers that had been running a rhythm through her hair brushed her shoulder as he pulled the patchwork blanket over her.

Eventually, whether it was minutes or days, he stopped reading. Against her forehead she felt a soft pressure, and recognized Draco's lips. In arms she was lifted and carried. She settled her head in the crease between his arm and his chest, and didn't remember him placing her gently in bed.

She woke only once.

"Draco," she mumbled, her hand outstretched for him. When she couldn't find him, her heart leapt painfully at the disconnected thought that he had left.

"Go to sleep, Granger," he whispered close to her ear, blowing strands of her hair in her face, tickling her nose.

"Stay."

In response, he pressed himself against her backside, an arm over her waist. A spot on her neck became warm, then cold, and then her legs were bound by his. There was a comfort (better than anything the world, better than making love) to be held throughout the night, and to wake to see that person beside you.

That was how Hermione knew that she would have Draco move in with her. The exact moment she decided was in fact waking up to the scent of coffee and smoke. She hurried to the kitchen and peeking through the smoky haze she saw Draco hastily putting out a small fire with his wand; burnt bacon had set off the high-pitched beeping of the fire alarm, and coffee spilled over the counter and onto the floor. Draco was wild-eyed his hair singed and wet clinging to his forehead and ears, his clothes wrinkled a portion of his boxers charred (she would never ask how that happened).

"How can a kitchen be flammable?!" He coughed, the fire out, but he was outraged and she imagined more than a little embarrassed.

She opened the doors and windows quickly, allowing for ventilation. "You didn't need to make breakfast, Draco."

"I wanted to do something for you," he confided, straight-faced and not one bit amused.

She dragged him out onto the patio, inhaling the fresh air. She then threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him. "Good morning."

"You've never cooked in your life."

"I saw a cooking book on your shelf. It didn't look hard."

Her throat was dry, and although it could've been contributed by the parched atmosphere, she knew it was her nervousness, her heart in her throat. "Will you move in with me?"

He raised his eyebrow at the strange request. "I set your house on fire and you want me to move in with you? Did you hit your head last night?"

She shrugged. "I can fix the kitchen. Just promise me you'll never cook again."

He laughed. "I promise." With arms around her waist, he picked her up and kissed her.


	22. Part 2 - Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Hermione's office was large, nearly the size of Harry's. There were two double-panned windows, a round desk in the corner. She warmed the office by placing a few pictures of her friends on her desk, photos of her travels over the walls, and a burgundy rug in front of the door.

Ginny was her first visitor, but she was not looking for a lawyer. She was being her curious self, investigating the office with a critical eye, but her coy smile was proud. "You did wonders," she told Hermione.

"Thank you."

Then, the real reason that Ginny came was clear as she set herself in front of Hermione, her arms crossed over her chest. "You're very happy, aren't you, Hermione? You haven't stopped beaming." She tapped her arm playfully.

"I asked Draco to move in with me."

"That's fantastic!"

"Do you really feel that way," she asked.

"Sometimes we all want to go away and never come back, just..." She swiped her hand over the finish of the desk. "There's always a reason to stay, and I guess we were all mad because we weren't your reason."

Suddenly she was ashamed. She looked over her shoulder at the pictures that were set out. There Hermione was with Harry, Ron, Ginny, Neville, Luna, Fred and George outside of the Quidditch field, Harry holding up the golden snitch he caught. There was another with Draco and her that was recently taken, a candid shot of them out in Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's garden. They had been taking a walk up the hill, their hands clasped, their eyes meeting. It was such a beautiful picture it was a shame that she didn't know who took it.

"I was being selfish," she told Ginny. "I wasn't thinking of anyone. I didn't think anyone would still care for me after I had broken up with Ron. Him and Harry stopped speaking to me after I told Professor McGonagall about Harry's broom. This was much worse than that."

Ginny huffed, her arms stiffening. "You were - what - thirteen then?"

She laughed. "You're right."

"I can never hear that enough," she boasted. "Especially by the almighty Hermione Granger. The Gryffindor know-it-all."

"You can sound like Draco sometimes," she cruelly observed.

She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Don't ever say that again.

Hermione looked curiously at her friend, at the shadows that plagued her eyes. "Are you okay, Ginny?"

She shrugged, but the sadness rolled off of her in waves. "I ran into Neville at George's shop last week."

"He told me he got accepted as a Herbology professor at Hogwarts," she commented kindly, but Ginny didn't look quite as thrilled.

"He was happy."

"Are you?"

Ginny's eyes welled up, her shoulders squaring. She pushed her red hair over her shoulder as she said, "I'm working things out."

"What's wrong?"

"That's why I'm in your office," she confessed, slumping in Hermione's leather chair. "Do you regret leaving?"

"I regret not saying goodbye."

"If you did and Draco begged you to stay, would you?"

She nodded, "that's why I didn't." She took her hand in hers. "Are you thinking of leaving Harry?"

"It's hard right now. I don't think even Harry knows."

"What's so hard?"

"I don't know, but I can't breathe. I feel like my life is over and death forgot about me. I stopped living, Hermione. I never did any of the things I wanted to do. I wanted to travel and see things. I want to experience the world, and I was folding laundry and realized I quit before I started. I can't do them now with a child and Harry. Harry's settled, he's had his adventures." She pressed the heel of her hand to her misty eye. "Please, don't tell him. I have to figure this out, and I know him, he'll want to help. He'll be attentive, and I can't have that."

"Okay. I promise." She leaned against her desk and squeezed her hand. "Gin, don't hurt him, okay?"

"I would never want that." She jumped up, sniffed, and dried her eyes. "I have to go. Teddy is watching James, and goodness knows what they're doing to the Tonk's house!"

"Gin -"

"Thanks, Hermione." She rushed out, leaving Hermione flabbergasted until her first appointment showed up. She forced all thoughts of her friend's problems out and went on with her day.

Hermione used the Floo Network to return home. She wished she hadn't as she landed in front of a huge stack of boxes that pushed her back into the hearth. She was not one for surprises.

"DRACO!"

"Yes, dear?" If he was being that chirpy and sarcastic it meant that he knew exactly why he was being yelled for.

"What are these boxes doing in front of the fireplace? You very well know that I don't take a bus, I need to use the Floo Network."

"What's a bus?"

"Draco Malfoy!"

There was a fair amount of cursing and some huffing and shuffling, and on top of the lowest box appeared Draco's face. "I had some trouble."

"Is this what you call trouble, Draco Malfoy," she asked sternly, "because if it is you're going to learn a few things about '_trouble_.'"

"Your house is fairly small."

"You cannot possibly have this many possessions. You lived in a flat, and that flat is smaller than this house. You'll have to put some of it back unless you particularly want to play forts."

"Forts?"

"It's a muggle game where you build forts out of boxes," she explained quickly.

"Sounds like work," he drawled.

"Yes, speaking of such, why aren't you at work?"

"Harry said it would be fun if he gave me the day off to move."

"Why would he say something like that?"

He glared around at the boxes as if pointing out the joke itself, and her face heated. "I'll deal with Harry later. Get me out of here."

"I don't know, Hermione," he said slowly, "if you're going to be angry then leaving you here sounds perfectly reasonable."

From out of the sleeve of her robe she took out her wand, pointing it at the box beneath his arms fully intending to shoot it out from under him.

"George was right about you, you are a spoil sport," he snapped.

It was the first time that she truly noticed how Harry and the Weasley's had changed him. She never thought of Draco as openly playful and teasing, not like the Weasley's. The change was almost frightening. People change, of course, but Draco was Draco and she never considered that the people he spent time with would be of any influence. It made sense, but it did not stop her heart from aching, because if she had been there, she wouldn't have paid his altered sense of humor any mind.

"Hermione?"

"Yes?" She realized she must have lost her 'dragon face' as Draco once called it. Needless to say, it was the last time he called it that.

"Are you feeling ill?"

"Sometimes I realize how much time has passed."

He didn't press her, his head disappearing, and slowly the box levitated away creating a doorway for her to exit. However, being free didn't lift her spirits much, as she saw that her kitchen was barricaded as well.

"Looks like we're going to have to do a lot of work," she said, opening up the box nearest to her.

One of the highest boxes closest to her started to tip. She didn't notice it, but as it fell toward her head, Draco called out, "Hermione," and waved his wand at the box, stilling it in mid-air. He set it down on the couch with four others.

Hermione sighed, and he smiled. "I'll make tea -"

"Oh no you don't. You come and help me. Tell me, where do these go?" She held up his dirty Quidditch gear.

"In the wardrobe."

"Why are they dirty? You haven't played Quidditch since you were in Hogwarts, have you?"

"Last week I played. There are so many of those Weasley's that they form their own teams."

She smirked a smirk worthy of him. "Which team are you on?"

"Harry's. Don't ever let him know this, but he is the best player. Unfortunately Ron can be poor. All George has to do is jeer."

Hermione laughed and handed him the heavy gear to be put up.

At the end of the day, half of the boxes were gone through, finding their places in Hermione's house. They relaxed on the couch, their feet up on three spare boxes sipping red wine that just happened to be in an ice box.

"Almost forgot. There's one more."

"Unless you stashed some on the roof then I don't know where it could be," she moaned.

He pulled a small black box out of his jean pocket.

She clapped her hand over her gaping mouth as Draco beamed. "Easy there, Hermione. This is only what you left behind."

The top lid popped open and there in the satin folds was the Malfoy crest ring.

"Oh, Draco."

He slid it on her finger. He must have sized it, for it fit flawlessly. "I don't want this back. It's yours."

"You're..." She couldn't find the words to describe the beauty of it all, but she didn't have to, because Draco did.

"Brilliant? Intelligent? Handsome? Charming and -"

She placed her hand over his. "You're brilliant. I will give you that." She replaced her hand with her lips.

* * *

A/N: The next chapter is where the story dramatically changes. This is my warning to all of you who hate twists to stop reading here. For the others, enjoy the following chapters.

I would also like to state that I wrote the ending before the beginning. This story was built around the conclusion. In my head, all of these chapters were a sort of "prologue" to what will occur.


	23. Part 2 - Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Hermione stretched her arms over her head, reaching beside her, her hand brushing cold fabric. She shivered lightly, and stood, wrapping her robe snugly around her, slipping her feet into her matching aqua slippers. Padding out to the kitchen she was disappointed to see that it was vacant, that Draco wasn't there brewing coffee like he did every morning (he was quite proud of himself for figuring out the riddles of the buttons and 'brown stuff').

Her owl, Lemuria, was sleeping soundly on the tap. There wasn't a note beside her. Hermione sighed heavily. There was nothing to be done but to go to work. And so she found the pot of coffee warm, and poured herself a cup as she traveled back to her room.

Placing her coffee on her nightstand she shed her top. She turned for her dress top when she saw a curious yellow paper poking out from beneath the pillow. She slid it out and relief swept through her as she read Draco's handwriting.

_My Darling Hermione,_

_I was called into work early. I didn't want to wake you, but rest assured I kissed you before leaving. The coffee is warm._

_Love, Draco_

Hermione arrived at her office after long hours in front of Wizengamot, ultimately winning a case for a poor Houself against the cruel family he once served. It was a giant leap in the right direction. Prideful, she began preparing her celebration with Draco in her head. She thought of the restaurant she passed yesterday while she was doing her shopping. It was a quaint romantic place, candles and flowers at every table and low seductive lighting. It would be the perfect place to go. She would order his favorite bottle of wine.

"Hermione." Draco stood up from behind her desk.

Hermione shut the door behind her. "Draco, I won! Ginger will never have to work with that family again..." Slowly, she trailed off at the sight of him, his eyes lighter than usual - alert, his mouth set into a frown.

"Harry's called me out to the field."

"Oh... Oh." She realized a beat late that it was supposed to be a good thing, he wanted to be out in the field, to prove his worth to Harry and Ron. "Congratulations... You must be excited."

It didn't show on his face, but he stepped out from behind the desk. "I was going to write you a note, but this is better," he held the sides of her face, kissing her hungrily, causing her to rise to the tips of her toes.

She pulled back, running her hands along the ends of his pale hair. "How long will you be gone?"

"I don't know..."

She leaned into him, inhaling the scent of his cologn. "Be careful."

"Always. I'll be back before you can miss me."

"I already miss you."

He rolled his eyes at the sentiment and pecked her lips once more before walking out the door, sparing her only one saddened glance.

She fell into her chair, the tips of her fingers to her lips thoughtfully. She wouldn't go home that night. The thought of crawling into an empty bed didn't sound appealing. No, she would stay there and put the finishing touches on her reports. Then, she would sleep the day away. Perhaps if she worked hard enough, she would forget to count the passing hours that he was away from her, forget to worry and forget to wonder what it was that he was into.

* * *

Hermione woke, her back sore, her hair tangled, her eyes sensitive to the bright light, and her forearm wet with tears she didn't know she had cried. Her clothes were wrinkled, yet, her appearance was of little concern. She remembered with a biting realization that Draco wasn't there. He wouldn't be home waiting for her. She only had to cook a meal for one.

In a daze she decided to travel by bus to her home, delaying the entrance into her empty home. It was only when she stepped up to the driver that she remembered she had no muggle money, and regretfully she stood on the sidewalk wondering whether to turn and go back to the Ministry or to go inside of a cafe for much needed coffee.

Draco hadn't lived with her long, but he was an integral part of her home. Without him there, it wasn't home. With sudden clarity, out of the haziness of her mind, she realized that he had been a home to her for a long time, from the time that she decided to stay with him at Hogwarts. Without him there, she was incomplete, a hungry void in the pit of her stomach.

She had to remind herself that Draco was capable of taking care of himself - and not only that, he was with Harry and Ron, they would watch after him. After so many years in the field themselves, they could obviously go without her worry.

Still, it didn't ease her troubles. She would grow used to it, she was sure. It was only that this was Draco's first time in the field. It would get easier. Until then, it would just be painful.

She walked into the nearest cafe and settled herself into a seat. She didn't see the waitress, or the rain that began falling from the newly formed gray clouds, nor did she taste her coffee.

The first time, it was always the hardest, that's what she had been told. She thought of seeing Ginny. She would know the feeling. She would know what to do for it.


	24. Part 2 - Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

It had been two days since Draco left and Hermione was on her second cup that afternoon. It was unacceptable, but she simply hadn't been able to sleep. Ginny hadn't been home, so she was left alone with her stacks of books, reading of past cases.

Pulling on jeans and a crisp white blouse, she decided to try her house once more. Regardless if Ginny was there or not, she ran out of coffee and Ginny had the best.

12 Grimmauld Place had changed since Harry had returned after the war. He had done a fantastic job of freshening the former Black home; it was brighter and newer, and happier. However, when she walked in, there was something wrong. Something deeply wrong. It was too quiet and too clean. Little James was not known for being neat, or keeping his toy out of the path of others.

"Ginny?" She called into the kitchen, but she wasn't there. It was void of the sweet smells of food that it often held. That was just as odd as not seeing a stuffed troll on the table or a miniature three-decker purple bus in the doorway.

Ginny was likely staying with her parents while Harry was away. It only made sense. She turned to leave, and spotted Harry on the foot of the staircase, sweat on his brow, streaks of blood on his arms, the left shoulder of his robe torn.

"Harry..."

"I just got here," he stated, "I did everything I could."

"What's wrong," she asked, her throat already tight. She knew it. Deep in her gut she knew that something terrible had happened to him.

He held up his hands, descending the last step. "There was nothing they could do. I brought him back here... I was about to owl you."

"What happened, Harry?"

His mouth moved, but the words were floating past her, his voice gargled as she fell into a sea of terror. Ice gripped her chest. She felt it exploding from her. She felt like she had no hold on her world.

"His mind's been..." Harry couldn't seem to finish, trailing off at her horrified expression.

"Harry," she choked, "say it. Tell me. What happened to Draco?"

He opened his mouth, and looked sadly away, not able to tell her.

Hermione rushed past him, his hand brushing hers briefly, but it went unnoticed. She ran up the stairs and down the hall and into a room that used to be Sirius', but was now decorated into a guest bedroom with all of Ginny's touches of flowers and light. But she focused on the chair in which her beloved sat. He stared out the window, his eyes not registering that it was raining or that there was a window at all.

She got down on her knees and took his limp hands from his lap. She expected him to look at her, but he didn't.

"Draco?" She took a staggering breath. "I'm here, love." She squeezed, his skin so pale against her own, like the snow against an off-beaten shore.

It was more than the rain that he wasn't registering. In his mind, twisted and frail, he had no idea that she was there, holding onto him. He couldn't feel her, and she felt like a ghost. She was 13 again, sad and angry that all he could do was call her a mudblood.

How could it have happened? Draco had an exceptionally strong mind. How could a rebounded spell have broken him? In his first mission as an Auror, he stood beside Harry for the first time and he fell for the last.

"Draco..." She wept. "Malfoy, please." She stood, it was shaky but she was on her feet looking down at the man she loved so dearly. "Look at me... Please... Look at me, Draco Malfoy!" The scream was a croak, her hands balled at her sides, and still, Draco did not move.

Harry ran in and dragged her away, her arm in his clutches, her feet stumbling over each other. None too gently he threw her out in the hallway, her shoulder colliding with the wall but before she could cry another tear he had her against his chest, his arms firmly around her, all encompassing her wailing form. "Help him! Harry, help him..."

"I tried," Harry told her, his voice strung tight. "I tried to save him. It was instant. I'm sorry, Hermione. I'm so sorry... His mind's gone..."

"No..." She crumpled into him.

A curse rebounded... A broken wand... A man shattered.


	25. Part 2 - Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

The rain turned cold and fell as snow. It gathered on the sill of the windows and frosted the scene outside. She laid next to Draco in bed, staring at his still form. She laid her head on his shoulder and pretended that he could feel her. The blue of his nightshirt became wet with her tears; she squeezed his hand hard, hoping against all hope that he would cry out. No sound was made.

Harry had come inside, looking more presentable than he had last night. The dirt and blood had been cleaned off of him, his robe changed for muggle clothing, but the sadness wasn't gone from his eyes.

"I don't blame you, Harry," she mumbled before looking up into his eyes. "I don't."

He stood next to the bed, until she moved herself closer to Draco, and he laid on the bed beside her. He smelled strongly of after-shave. "I'm sorry." His voice was like grinding nails.

"He'll be okay," she sniffed, smoothing out the wrinkles in Draco's pajamas. "I'll take him to St. Mungo's in the morning."

"Hermione," he said gently, "that's the first place we took him to. They said there was nothing to be done."

"I'll get a second opinion. I've read things like this happening. Do you know how many books of Auror's careers I've read when you were accepted? I had nightmares for weeks about the one in million curses that could happen to you. I knew this could happen. I know his chances."

"You know their slim."

"I won't give up."

"Hermione -"

"Stop it, Harry," she begged weakly. The entirety of her body was tired, beaten and ragged.

There was a long silence, only the distant pattering of rain. Harry reached over Draco and curled his fingers around hers.

Harry then said, "I'll stay with you today. No need for you to be alone now." It was a decision he was firm upon because he stood up and had those straight shoulders he got when he made up his mind. "What do you want for breakfast?"

She knew there would be no persuading him, so she told him what she and Draco would eat. Before he left, he said, "Hermione, stay here with us, will you?"

"Harry, I can't impose -"

"There's plenty of room here."

She stared into his eyes. "Where's Ginny? I haven't seen her."

He stiffened. "Ginny's... Um..."

"Harry..."

He shook his head, partly in obvious despair and partly in the same kind of exhaustion she was suffering. Whatever happened between him and Ginny, they would work it out. They were Harry and Ginny. Of course they would.

Minutes later Harry brought up two trays of eggs, bacon and orange juice. One plate it was mushed into one. He must have been really sorry, because the orange juice was freshly squeezed.

The three of them sat up in bed, and Harry watched as Hermione fed Draco first. She was careful about it, massaging his throat, being sure that the food went down.

"A Healer told me there's a place for damaged Aurors -"

"Damaged," she spat at him, the fork of mush hanging close to Draco's open mouth.

"Look at him," he said, as if what he said wasn't cruel and all the proof he needed was sitting next to her. "Look at him," he prodded once more.

She wouldn't. She continued feeding him.

"You don't expect that you'll be taking care of him for the rest of his life, do you?"

"Yes. I do."

"That's barmy -"

"Drop it," she snapped.

"Hermione -"

"Harry Potter, I said drop it."

His jaw slammed shut, but the fire in his eyes didn't dissipate. He stood and left the room. She could hear him down the hall, banging things in his room.

It was the last whole day that Hermione remembered. The next month went by in a blur. Harry had taken three days off from work while she took fourteen. When it was time to return she made up a routine that she posted to the fridge.

Draco's wicker chair was not to be moved. It was illogical, she knew, but she hoped to the point of pain that he was registering something, and she didn't wish for him to be bored.

Every morning she would exercise his legs and, with the help of magic, she would move him to his seat. She would cook his breakfast. She hired a house-elf by the name of Crinkle to help care for him while she was at the Ministry. At dusk, she would magically move him back into the bed. Every day, it was the same routine, and Draco, he didn't change. He was as unresponsive as the day she came to Grimmauld Place.

During that first month, the Weasley's were naturally the first visitors. Hermione couldn't recall what their exact sentiments were. She remembered that Ginny stayed came, keeping a distance from Harry. She hugged Hermione, stroked her hair, and gave Draco a long look before being the first to leave.

There were a lot of tears, none that were her own. She was unable to cry. She was dehydrated from the ocean she gave.

Neville was next. Neville spared Draco a glance before embracing her. As fond as she was of Neville, it only served to make her feel more guilty. Neville was there through her most terrible deeds. She could not look him in the eye. He possibly gave her sweet words of encouragement as Ron likely had done, but she didn't remember. She didn't want to remember, to keep any of them, because it wasn't her that they should have been whispering their sadness to, but Draco. She was not a survivor, she was like them. Mourning for a man lost to a battle's cause.

The only light in the dark days were James. Those were the best days. She would leave Draco in peace and be in the company of the bright little boy. On those days Harry and her would take him to the nearby park. He particularly enjoyed the swings and how high his father would let him go.

Those days she almost forgot her pain.

Two months and fifty visitors later she was found at the window by Harry, watching the snow drift down. She saw the glint of his glasses in the reflection, but she didn't greet him. She focused on how the snow fell, delicately, beautifully, without fail.

Harry touched the crook of her arm and she leaned back into his chest. His breath hitched, but he rested his cheek on the top of her head. They stayed in quiet for a long time like that.

He whispered, "Hermione."

"Do you want me to leave?" She was waiting for such a declaration.

"No." He was confused. "No. Stay." He kissed her hair. "I think you should talk to Luna. She wants to speak with you."

She nodded. "I will. Tomorrow."

Softly, he smoothed her tresses over her cheek. "He's never going to wake up."

"What are you trying to say, Harry?"

"That you should consider sending him to the home we talked about. Remember?"

He knew very well that she remembered. She turned, tears fresh in her eyes. "Why hasn't Ginny been here? Why is James only here on the weekends?"

"You know why. We haven't been on well with each other lately."

"I know it's none of my business, but why?"

He shrugged, his eyes looking past her ear to the window. "People change, I suppose. She loved who she thought I was. I dunno..." He focused back on her. "Why can't you send him away?"

Hermione felt the seams unravel in her being. "I promised him. I promised him I wouldn't leave him."

"He would understand -"

"No, no he wouldn't. I left him for Bulgaria," she cried, the tears pouring. She was becoming hysterical. "Because I was scared and I was angry at myself, and he - he was all alone. I promised him I wouldn't leave again. I'm not going to leave him, Harry. Never. Never!"

Harry pulled her into his comforting arms. "Okay, Hermione. Okay."

It was not long ago that she hated a few days without him. She didn't know how she would live the rest of her life if Draco didn't wake up. But he would. He had to. He couldn't leave her when she promised she wouldn't leave him.

Harry kissed her forehead before going to bed. Hermione crawled into bed next to Draco. The old tears were sticky and the new ones continued to flow. She pressed her lips to his, but there was no response, and she cried harder, curling herself around him.

She whispered in his ear. "Don't give up, Draco. I'm still here. I won't leave you."


	26. Part 2 - Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

Luna Lovegood had her own office in downtown London. It was a rundown place with boarded windows, graffiti brick that she couldn't associate with her. She suppose that if anyone could find the good in the place, it would be Luna. However, when Hermione entered the one-room office, she suddenly saw what made the place hers.

The walls were brightly painted with happy people. Many, many happy people. Neville and Hannah, she spotted being among them. Hermione tilted her face up and saw that they were also on the ceiling, and hanging from it were charms like corks, flowers, live plants wriggling, and steams of grass. The dark windows were too painted, but with strange animals that Luna discovered on her trips.

In the center of the room was a table and two chairs. Against one wall was a large material couch that completed the simple but extravagant atmosphere. That was where she was.

Luna, an odd but pretty girl with dirty blond hair and piercing blue eyes smiled at her from the couch. She had been sitting straight up, a posture that would make elitist girls weep. "Hello, Hermione. Harry said you would be coming. I'm sorry about Draco."

Hermione could only nod. After all the times that she heard it, she still couldn't find the right response. "How are you, Luna? Doing well?"

"Yes, but you're not here to talk about that." Luna stood, and held out her hand. There in her palm were two small vials, one with a pink cork and one with a blue. "The blue cork is Draco's, the pink is mine. See mine last."

"Are these... Memories?" The inside of the vial was a clear smoky substance.

"Yes."

She took them with care. She spotted some writing on the side, something she couldn't read but that was not what made her gasp. "Luna... Did you write this?"

"Yes."

It suddenly dawned on her. "You sent me those news clippings of Draco's career."

She smiled. "I'm a collector of the Daily Prophet."

"Thank you." She stared at the curls the clouds made in the vials. "I don't understand. How did you come about getting these?"

"I had a feeling Draco's memories would be useful to you one day. I meant to send them to you when you moved here, but I was in Wales."

"Why?"

"It's my other job. Writing for the Quibbler is only one."

"What is your other job?"

"I knew you would come. Now you must go and look over those memories."

"Harry told me to come."

"For these. He knew I had them."

She didn't like the feeling she was getting, but before she could question her further Luna rushed her off. Hermione was begging for more information, but Luna had shut the door in her face stating quite calmly that they had nothing more to talk about until she viewed those memories.

Outside of her office, Hermione did a cursory check of the cold and dark alley-way and disapparated, arriving right on the doorstep of Grimmauld Place. She rushed in, jumping up the steps of the stairs and barged right into the mess that was Harry's room.

He was gone much of the day and sometimes in the middle of the night, but she didn't think that it was much of an excuse to not put away his clothes. Then again, he didn't use his wardrobe for clothes.

Inside the wardrobe was a hovering basin. Dumbledore's to be exact. She admired the glow, the etching of ancient languages around its rim. She then uncorked the blue vial, and poured the memory in. Taking a deep breath, her heart fluttering in its cage, she dipped her face in.

* * *

_Hermione was back outside of Luna's boarded up office. It was sunnier and brighter than it was when she visited. She looked around her, and right there, in front of the door was Draco. He was fussing with his suit, straightening the vest, his eyes steel, his cheek and chin scruffy with a week's worth of the start of a beard._

_"Draco," she wept, her hands over her mouth. Her hand reached out tentatively for him, but it passed right through._

_It was only a memory. She knew better than to think that he could hear her. Still, it felt like hope was crushing her. She stood close to him, if just for the imitative comfort from the imitation itself._

_Luna opened the door before Draco could knock._

_"Hello, Draco Malfoy."_

_Draco nodded coldly and looked with distaste around the room that obviously didn't suit him. "Was told you were the best."_

_They sat at the table and Draco talked. He talked about his parents and, shaking with sobs, all of the things he was made to do, how he wished someone would oblivate him. That all of his memories haunted him. Every bloody scene was the last he saw before he closed his eyes, and was the first he remembered when he woke._

_Hermione worked out that it was some time after the war. He was so young and damaged. She wondered how many were like him._

_The scene fell away and rebuilt itself and Draco was gone. Luna was answering the door. For all looks and purposes it could have been the same day, or a repeat of the day before, but Draco again talked with Luna about his past. He told her that he would soon be returning to Hogwarts, and she, in her airy tone told him gently that he must make amends._

_It must have been a long time after, because when the scene altered itself Luna was hanging portraits of Puffskeins, and Draco was ranting, pacing the floor as he talked of how he hated his family and everything he was made to do, and how most of all, he hated her, Hermione._

_Luna took a seat, but instead of watching him she was interested in the glints of rainbow light with no beginning playing off the glass birds she attached to the ceiling. She smiled vacantly._

_Hermione listened as Draco slandered Hermione's name, breaking chip after chip of her heart. She had no idea that Draco hated her so. Then, suddenly, lost in her tears, not able to hand much more Draco said, "she had no right to leave!"_

_It occurred to her then that the memory was after she had left. She covered her mouth, feeling the wetness of her cheeks. She felt like she had been pounded, her body sore, her eyes red with angry sadness, and there was such a relief she was light-headed._

_"You love her a great deal," she said matter-of-factly._

_Draco glowered at her. "I do not!"_

_"Then you should be relieved that she's gone. You won't have to make up for being a horrible git anymore. That's what the relationship was about, right?"_

_Outraged, Draco stood. "I won't sit here hearing these lies!" He slammed the door on his way out, but Luna didn't so much as flinch._

_The scene changed and there was Draco again at the door. They again chose their seats, but this time, looking more haggard than ever, Draco admitted that she was right._

_"I miss her," he said. "I thought she'd be back by now. It's been a year, Lovegood. You're her bloody friend. Tell me why."_

_Luna said nothing. She stood on her chair, bringing herself up on her tiptoes and gingerly took down one of the glass birds. She handed it to him. "These make me smile."_

_"You're a bit loony, Lovegood."_

_"I know," she said, her eyes on a particularly bright rainbow._

_"I'm going to be an Auror." He felt the curve of the delicate bird's wing. "Maybe that'll make her come back. She'll see what a dolt she's been. She'll see that I've really changed."_

_Luna, who was then making bright swirls of purple streams into the air, said, "I find that the best changes are what we do for ourselves." She smiled at him, and Draco shifted uncomfortably but stood, his hands flat on the table._

_"The best change is if she comes back as the Hermione I know." He straightened, readying himself to leave._

_"Oh, that won't happen," she commented, "but you are not the same Draco."_

_"What do you suggest, Loony Lovegood?"_

_"That you go on without her."_

_Draco's face was that of disappointment, but it quickly faded and he left._

Hermione gasped as she landed back in Harry's room. She felt her heart that thumped hard under her hand, but she wouldn't allow herself any longer because she had to know what else Draco wanted her to see. Or rather, what Luna wanted her to see.

If she was to be completely honest with herself, the truth was that she didn't want to stay in the real world any longer. She liked seeing Draco healthy and whole. No matter if he was angry or calling her names, he was Draco, and he was alive in a way that he no longer was.

If only she could live in those memories...

She shakily brought out Luna's vial. The last memory. Pulling out the cork, she held it tight in her hand, pouring the contents in.

* * *

_Hermione was back in Luna's office, but the birds were gone. There was the familiar knock on the door and Hermione made her way forward, anxious to see him, but stopped in her tracks when she saw that it wasn't Draco. It was Harry, and he looked like he had been working all night, his pickled eyes puffy and his clothes askew._

_"I know what you want, Harry," Luna said. "I'm afraid I can't."_

_Harry's eyes glazed for a second before he shook his head. "A personal favor, Luna, please. You're brilliant at finding the... " He lost what the name was that she found and said instead, "you can find her."_

_"Love can be funny."_

_"She's my friend," he said fiercely._

_She cocked her head at him, as if seeing him for the first time. "Is she?"_

_He shook his head. "It's not what you think."_

_She turned and titled the polk-dotted Puffskein frame. She stepped back, inspecting it and nodding._

_"Luna!"_

_Luna turned. "You're my friend, Harry, and I left," she pointed out._

_"You were traveling, Luna. You didn't disappear. I need to find her."_

_"That is why love is funny. Hermione is doing no more traveling than I was and she's a good witch. A tad small-minded..."_

_"You were searching for creatures; she's ran away."_

_"Curious. I thought she was searching for herself."_

_Harry collapsed on the couch. "What if she's in danger?"_

_"I don't think it's Hermione you're worried for. You haven't been without her since you started your life as a wizard."_

_"What's the point?"_

_"You don't know what your life is without her. She's more important to you than you have realized." __Tapping her wand against her head in thought, she smiled. "Perhaps you should talk to someone else. A specific someone else who would understand your plight."_

_"Who? Give me a name."_

_"Draco Malfoy, of course."_

* * *

Harry's room swam around her. She sat on his bed, holding her knees. It felt like the only stable place in the world was her position there on that bed. Nothing else felt like it could hold the weight of her sadness.

It all became clear to her then. That was how Draco became friends with Harry and Ron. Luna led them together, knowing exactly what they all needed. Luna thought people were funny, but it was Luna herself that was funny. Against her own characteristic of staying out of people's business and not listening to a word of the opinions they spout, she got involved that one time, because she knew what her friends needed.

Funny, beautiful Luna.

"You alright?"

Hermione's heart leapt, and settled at the sight of Harry standing in the doorway. Then, it all crashed around her, and her eyes stung and her head hurt, but most of all, her heart was breaking apart.

Her voice cracked. "God, Harry. He's never going to wake up, is he?"

Harry said nothing. She bounded off the bed and into his arms. He held her tightly as she grieved.

* * *

A/N: For those hardcore Dramione readers, please keep in mind that I never said that this was strictly a Dramione story, nor did I list it as such. Some of my stories are Draco/Hermione centric, some aren't; just as some have happy endings and some do not.

Thank you all, you're lovely.


	27. Part 2 - Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

_"Lording it over all the other teachers, the stupid puffed-up, power-crazy old –"_

_"Now, do you really want to finish that sentence, Granger?"_

Gingerly Hermione sat Draco in the wicker chair, wrapping him in a blanket. She opened the window allowing for the breeze to grace him.

_"But I know one thing: last time the Chamber of Secrets was opened, a Mudblood died. So I bet it's only a matter of time before one of them's killed this time… I hope it's Granger," he said with relish._

With a chair pulled up beside him she read from his favorite book. It was a violent sort of story but she read, letting her thoughts travel to the hope that he was listening to every word.

_"Keep that big bushy head down, Granger," sneered Malfoy._

Hermione scooped up the last bit of mushed potatoes and biscuits for him, running her fingers down the length of his throat.

_Ron pulled out his wand, but Hermione pushed it away, whispering, "Don't!"_

_"Wise move, Granger," breathed Malfoy._

She buttoned up his pajamas.

He took the small cutting knife and Hermione handed him the Boomslang skin. Their fingers met, his colder than the dungeon itself and she sharply retracted.

_"Sorry."_

_Hermione glimpsed up._

She combed his hair back from his vacant eyes.

_That was when a snowball hit her in her back. She spun, and one hit her in the shoulder. She gaped as she spotted a thin boy hiding behind the tree near the lake. Silently she packed snow in her hands, and waited. When he peered out, she threw, and... Missed him by a good two feet._

_Draco stared at the spot where the clump of snow marred the untouched ground, and then up at her. "That was a terrible throw. You have a wand, witch."_

She read another chapter, her head on his chest, comforted by the rising and falling.

_"I'm not afraid of blood, Hermione."_

_"But -"_

_"I'm not that boy."_

She tangled her fingers in his.

_"You have nothing to prove to me."_

_"I have everything to prove to you!"_

She nuzzled her nose into his neck, breathing him in.

_Shoving his shoulders his back hit the wall, his eyes wide and incredulous as she grasped the sides of his face and kissed him._

She kissed him, his lips still and unresponsive against hers. A tear fell from her eye.

_"I have lost my mind," Malfoy continued, unaware of the effect he was having on her, "I must have, to have ever been partners with you."_

She cried.

_"Sometimes we lose things we don't know we had."_

_"I don't understand, sir."_

_"You will."_

She cried.


	28. Part 2 - Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

When Hermione had bathed and fed Draco, sitting him in his usual chair by the window, she sat on the bed. Overcome with sadness she curled into herself. She watched him, how he was barely breathing, barely alive, but right there. It was killing her, how she could do nothing for him, nothing to save him from the trap he had fallen into. It was in his mind, therefore, he was virtually unreachable. She knew that even performing Legimins spell could do nothing for either of them.

Behind her the bed sunk in. Harry pressed in on her back, his head beside hers. She looked over, not realizing that she was crying until he wiped the tears from her face.

"I'm afraid I'll forget him. What if I forget him, Harry?"

"You won't."

"I'm lost. I don't know what to do without him."

Harry touched her hair, and so very slowly ran his hand down its length. He didn't know what to say, and he said nothing, and for Hermione, that was okay.

In his warmth, she felt secure. She always felt that way with Harry, despite his half-joking that danger followed him everywhere. In Hermione's opinion, there was no place more safer, and yet, she ironically stayed by his side for so many years to keep him alive.

"Hermione, I think it's time we discuss sending Draco to the Neurological Institute -"

"No," she told him flatly.

"Hear me out -"

"No." She leapt out of the bed and away from him. She wouldn't hear it. She wouldn't send him away. She stood beside Draco and touched his shoulder, pretending that, for a moment, he knew that she was there, and he was smirking, that at any time he would reach up and cover her hand with his.

"What are you waiting for? You said it yourself, he's never gonna get better!"

"I'm not giving him up!"

"Why are you doing this to yourself?"

"Because," she screamed, "I left him once! I won't do it again!" She held tight to the wicker chair, feeling it was the only thing holding her up. "I promised him I wouldn't leave him, Harry, and I did. He was cast out of his own family because of me. How can I leave him now when I promised I wouldn't again? I have to make it up to him."

Harry looked away. "He wouldn't blame you."

"Don't talk like he's dead, Harry, please."

"He's not there. He's gone." She flinched, and in a strict tone, he spat, "you're not the only one hurting here. I lost my friend and I'm losing you _again_."

"Harry," she began, not knowing how to say that she was sorry for his pain – for all of theirs, but she was responsible for Draco, that she couldn't do what he was asking of her.

"You always do what's right. You know what you have to do." He left.

Hermione looked into Draco's vacuous face. She touched his prominent cheekbones, the edges of his overlong hair; she looked into his sunken eyes. She knelt in front of him, taking his thin hands in hers. He looked nothing like the boy she hated and nothing like the man she loved. He was a stranger, but the words came to her effortlessly.

"I'll never forget you. I won't leave you." She sniffed, kissing his lips hard. One last time, she allowed herself to hope that he would kiss her back. He didn't. He never would.

She stroked the sides of her face, pulling herself on to her feet. Forcing herself away from him, she sat at the desk and wrote a letter to the person she thought she would never write to.

_Mrs. Malfoy,_

_I realize I'm the last person you wish to hear from, but I write this letter on behalf of your son._

_On a raid in Cairo with his fellow Aurors, he was struck with a curse. Healers were unable to aid in his recovery and he is now residing at 12 Grimmauld Place in London. He is unresponsive with no indication of change._

_I'm deeply sorry that you must hear this from me through a letter, and I can offer you no comfort. If you would like to see him then please feel free to visit._

_Sincerely, Hermione Granger_

She laid her quill next to the letter, looking at Draco. She remembered the war that split families apart and destroyed so many lives. He was on the opposite end of that war.

For seven years they hated each other. He hated her because of her blood and she hated him for his attitude toward anyone he deemed of lesser value. He bullied her and her friends, and Harry... Harry was right about him being a Death Eater.

To see him as more than a bully, as a loved son and one who had been through the most terrible of things... That wasn't until she witnessed him and his parents huddled together in the Great Hall, uncomfortable with being on the right side, but happy to be rejoined.

They were more alike than anyone could ever think.

Now, he was as good as gone from her, and she didn't know how to recover, or if she wanted to. It would have been different if Draco didn't want her, if he had died a hero, but somehow, it was more painful for him to be trapped inside of his own head. It was more painful that he was alive but so very much out of her help.

In her arms, Hermione cried tears that Draco would never hear.

Harry did. It was his hand that rubbed her back.

"He is gone," she muttered, certain that he didn't hear her, but she heard herself, the broken voice of a heart that would sooner recover when Draco did.

She looked up to her best friend. "Wherever he goes, I'm going with him."

Harry said nothing, but read the letter where it was. "I'll send that."

She rolled it up and handed it to him. "Nothing will be the same again, will it?" She didn't dare look at him when she asked.

"No." He tapped the letter against his hand, clearly revising the words he wanted to tell her. "Hermione, you know that his mum won't... His mum won't be able to..."

"Bring him back? I know, Harry. But... It's her son." She stared at the back of Draco. "Send for the brochures, please?"

"Sure, Hermione." He was at the door, when he turned, and added, "I'm not going anywhere. I'm with you, no matter what you decide."

"Is there a decision, Harry? Really?" She twisted in her seat to face him. "I have no choice but to send him away."

"That's not the decision I meant."

Before she could ask, her door was closed.


	29. Part 2 - Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

Hermione dabbed her mouth with her napkin, full after an hour's work of cooking on Harry's part. She picked up her glass and plate, but Harry stood quickly. "I'll clean up."

"Harry, it was a delicious meal. Please, let me."

"You get Draco ready for bed."

She leaned back in her seat, watching as he piled plates and cups and silverware into the basin, taking care of her the way that she took care of Draco. She got to her feet and kissed his cheek, leaving, remembering what Luna said to him in her memory, but she wouldn't linger on it. She had more important matters to attend to.

In their usual routine, Hermione dressed Draco in his blue silk pajamas. She was buttoning the last button when she felt off, the feeling that she wasn't alone and she was being watched.

"Harry, can you please fetch his slippers? His feet were cold this morning."

There were footsteps, but they were not Harry's. They were heavier, and they clicked hard on the woodblock, like the sound of heels.

Hermione stood, her wand in hand, but she stilled in shock at what she saw.

Mrs. Malfoy, tears in her eyes, her hair limp along her shoulders, stood there, staring right at her son. Her hand, a replica of Draco's, reached out, but withdrew, clutching the handle of her dragon-skin purse. Then, she straightened her back, and stared at Hermione as if she was the most despicable creature to have lived.

Hermione didn't know what to say, but she did not loosen her grip on her wand.

"Is this my boy," she asked her, as if hoping to be wrong.

"Yes."

Step by step, Mrs. Malfoy walked around the chair to her son. She leaned down, and with shaking hands, held her boy's face. Then, she gave a strangled cry.

"My boy. My Draco."

Hermione disappeared into the shadows, turning away so she wouldn't have to witness the private moment. Yet, as she faced her bed, a great claw clasped her shoulder, spinning her around and she was so stunned by the sudden movement, by the tears of Draco's mother, of her dispirit, that her wand clattered to the floor.

Mrs. Malfoy smelled of tears and over-priced perfume that made Hermione's head spin. The elder woman had never been as close to her as she was then. In fact, Hermione wondered if Mrs. Malfoy had ever brought herself to touch someone of a lower status.

"Ms. Granger," Mrs. Malfoy whimpered. "Was he happy?"

She gaped. Then, "yes, ma'am. He was happy." She bent and picked up her wand, but once it was in her hold, Mrs. Malfoy was facing her son, caressing his hair, weeping quietly.

"I used to do this often. Lucius, bless him, would say that he would be bald before he was two. He was a precious boy - a happy boy. He was a good man, wasn't he?"

"He was. He saved lives that day in Cairo. He's a hero." Hermione wasn't privy to the information of what happened that day, but it was a lie to soothe the woeful mother. Draco was an amazing man, a man who overcame prejudice and she simply did not know how to tell her how much Draco meant to her.

There was a shaky breath. "Good. I'd like to take him home."

Harry came in, his wand too in his grasp. He answered her. "With all due respect, Mrs. Malfoy, Draco is home."

Draco's mother looked him over with contempt. "I appreciate your appearance at our trial hearing, Mr. Potter. What you did for my family was gracious, but Draco is my son and it is time he came home. I have arranged the best care for him."

Harry wasn't able to find an argument and so he stayed silent. Hermione was not going to give up that easy.

"Mrs. Malfoy," she got her attention. "Draco was a great friend and a great Auror. He loved you and your husband very much, but if there is any way possible, I would personally like to care for him."

"I am sure that you have a suitable job, Ms. Granger, and this is none of your concern. Why are you insisting on making it so?"

"Because... Draco made me happy."

"That is not a good enough -"

"It'll have to be," she snapped, feeling the blood boil in her veins. "You abandoned him!"

"Don't," Mrs. Malfoy shrieked, "pass judgment on my family. We had hoped that Draco would fulfill his fantasies with you and he would return home when he had. My husband died hoping his only son would return. It is because of you that my family was ripped apart."

"Draco made a choice."

"Because of you."

"Because he wasn't carrying on the hatred you bred."

Hermione was shaking, and for the first time, she was truly afraid of the wand in her hand, that she would react with harshness. She hadn't healed from Draco's accident and she would never forget that the woman looked on as a child was tortured in her presence. Hermione was seeing a monster and she understood why Draco never went back home.

"Draco loved her," Harry said fiercely, stepping forward. "I will do everything in my power to stop you if you try to take him away."

Hermione instantly recognized what he was doing for her, how much it would cost him in reputation to do it. Being ostracize many times in the wizarding world had been terrible on him, and for him to risk it with his own will to help her meant more than any words could say. There was no way that they would win, Draco belonged to the closest relative. That was what brought her back, it was what ceased the shivers that ran up her arms.

So Hermione said, "no." She placed herself in front of Draco's mother. That was what she was. She was more than the expensive clothes and the upturned nose, she was his mother. "You may take him. I only ask that I am able to see him. I won't be in your way, you won't ever have to see me."

Mrs. Malfoy, her shoulders up to her ears in distaste, huffed. "My husband and I have read the papers. We have kept a close eye on him. We have not for one moment stopped loving our son. All I want is to get back those years, Ms. Granger, and I know very well that you and Mr. Potter are capable of many things, but you can never give me back the years that we missed."

"Please, Mrs. Malfoy..."

Mrs. Malfoy gripped her purse tighter. "I'll have someone collect him in the morning. And you, Ms. Granger, will be on the list if you wish to visit him."

"Thank you."

She nodded curtly, returning to her son, and a tear fell from her eye as she kissed the top of his head. She looked back once to Hermione. "I have to say, although I disapprove of my son's choices, he could have made a worse one in you, Ms. Granger." Then, she left, the clicking of her heels fading down the steps, showing herself out.

The room had gone eerily quiet, and Hermione was trying to process what had just been said: A compliment in the throes of an insult.

Hermione sighed as she sat on the edge of the bed. "I did not expect that."

Harry sat beside her, lying a hand over hers. "Are you alright?"

"I'll be alone," she stated plainly, factually.

"You'll never be alone."

She looked into his eyes, open and bright. "I'm going to quit my job," she stated. It was a thought that had been lingering in the back of her mind, a daydream of sorts. "I'm going to train to be a Healer."

"Okay," he said simply. He must have suspected it, because he didn't ask any further questions.

"Thank you, Harry."

"What for?"

"For being there for me. Giving me and Draco a place to stay."

"I reckoned I owed you for seven years of saving my life. What did you say back then? We were in this together?"

She leaned against him, her eyes on Draco. "Yes, we are."


	30. Part 2 - Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

A new dawn. It couldn't be called the next morning, or the following day. That wouldn't be correct. Saying it was a new dawn was like saying it was a new age - and it was. It was the day that everything was going to change, to settle into what would be her life .

As Hermione readied Draco, an owl flew off into the "new dawn." She straightened Draco's collar, the simple action spoke more love than she could voice. Seeing him dressed in dress robes to make his mother proud, it pained her. It was confirmation that he was leaving.

"I won't be here," she told him, knowing very well that he couldn't hear her. It wasn't possible, although she liked to believe that it was. "I have an important visit to make. None more important than you... But... I can't bear to watch you go... Tell me you forgive me, Draco."

He was still as stone.

"Tell me. Tell me you love me."

Nothing.

She gripped his hands. They were ice cold with lack of use. "I love you, Draco. I'll miss you. I promise you, I'll be along soon to see you. I'll never leave you."

Emptiness.

Numbly, she walked downstairs, into the kitchen where she smelled the bacon and eggs Harry was cooking. Draco would eat in an hour at his new home, and so this meal was only for them.

Without glancing at him, she wished him good morning and took her seat. Harry slid her meal under her nose, and sat in his usual place across from her.

"You don't have to go." It seemed to take effort for Harry to say this.

"I do. It's Mrs. Malfoy's day."

"Where is it that you are going?"

"Away. I'll return for dinner." Inwardly, she hoped that she wouldn't be returning alone.

"Good," he stated.

"Good?"

"You know," he spoke awkwardly, "you won't have to see him leave."

She nodded, and they ate in silence. She didn't know about Harry but her food was not going down well. There were lumps like nails digging themselves down her throat, and she took large drinks of her water.

When they were finished and Harry was cleaning the silverware the muggle way (which always warmed her to childhood memories of doing the same), she left through the fireplace on the first floor lounge. There was a direct open link between it and the Weasleys.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were out, and she never heard the house so quiet. With all the grown children gone, it was almost eerie, especially in the toys (stuffed dragons and kappas) that littered the floor.

Up the creaky staircase she made her way to Ginny's bedroom. Since Hogwarts the Holyhead Harpies posters were taken down, the walls bearing a new coat of green paint. The one bed was pushed out from its usual corner to under the window that overlooked the field where her and her brothers and Harry would play Quidditch. Ginny was sitting there, gazing sadly out in her favorite jeans and blue jumper.

"Ginny." Hermione spoke softly as to not frighten her, but Ginny didn't move. "Where's James?"

"Out with mum and dad." Her voice was broken.

Ginny hardly cried, not even at Fred's funeral. Around the casket stood the sea of red-heads and while Molly was inconsolable, there was her daughter, stoic like a soldier. Ginny comforted George, holding his hand while silent tears coated his cheeks. It was later that night when Hermione passed the bathroom hearing the girl's gulping gasps. She had gone into the living room to urge Harry to tend to her.

"Ginny, why not go home? Harry misses you."

She swiped her cheek with the back of her hand, and gave out a short laugh. "Oh, Hermione. You're a terrible liar."

"It is not a lie -"

"This isn't Harry's fault, Hermione." Ginny turned around, and smiled weakly at her. "Of course, you'd think it was Harry who left, but not this time. I did."

Hermione sat in front of her, her hands gently laid in her lap hoping that the position didn't tell how scared she was of hearing the truth. "Then what is it?"

"Dad would talk about Harry a lot when I was growing up. He was something grand. He was like a knight. Then on that train station, there he was. The boy I dreamt of for years. It was scary at first, then it was a challenge. Ron told me what happened their first year at Hogwarts. Harry was brave. I did love him. But what if he didn't have that scar? Would I have paid him any mind? I don't think so. He's so... Normal, now - boring even," she laughed lightly. "The boy without a scar is not a boy I would have loved. Harry is a good man but I'm not for him. I'm so very sorry, Hermione."

Her brain felt like sludge as she worked through the memories of talking to Ginny about Harry, all of the advice to tell her to be herself. It seemed like a dream then. "Why are you sorry?"

"Because of my foolishness. I took him away from you." When Hermione opened her mouth, Ginny waved at her, "oh, don't say differently, Hermione. We both know if it wasn't for me, you two would be together."

Hermione said nothing for what felt like a very long time. Then, "I'm sending in my resignation."

Slowly, Ginny studied her. "This is hard for you, I understand. Draco's a good man, and what you are doing for him is admirable, but it isn't fair that you give up your career for him."

"Life isn't fair."

"Don't give your life to someone who has none. Don't," Ginny snapped as Hermione again opened her mouth to retort. "You are wasting away." She gripped Hermione's wrist and forced her off the bed and in front of the full length mirror. "Look at yourself. If Draco could see you he'd be furious and you know it."

Hermione did as she was told. It was true, that she was thinner than she had ever been in her life, her clothes hanging off her form like loose skin. Her eyes were lifeless, a dull muddy brown. Her lips cracked; dry as the desert.

"I'm going to be a Healer," she said, recognizing the slight irony, and walked to the door, feeling more sure of her decision than she had when she first looked into Draco's vacant visage the morning after the incident. Being a Healer was what she had to do.

"Is it for Draco," Ginny asked behind her.

"Everything's for Draco," she responded, not ceasing her steps to the fireplace in the lounge.

Ginny followed her the whole way, her barefoot padding the hardwood floors behind her in quick tempo. "Not everything's about you and Draco, you know!"

Hermione stood in front of the fireplace, the powder in her fist. "Get out with it, Ginny. What are you trying to say?"

"You can't get your happy ending," she exhaled, "but Harry can get his."

She turned to look at her properly. Ginny was serious.

"He's your husband -"

"Not for long."

"Don't be hasty. You and Harry can work this out."

"Not everything is fixable. Those we love, they don't always stay with us. You know that better than anyone."

"Harry's my best friend," she responded dryly. Her head was hurting - exploding.

"You love him. I know you love Harry. I know you love Draco too, but Draco would be furious with you for letting yourself die with him -"

"He's not -"

"He is! He's as good as dead!"

Stricken, Hermione fell back into the hearth. She didn't feel her heart beating, and for all she knew it could have stopped. All she felt were her eyes stinging, and a hollowness that could not be filled. She dropped the Floo Powder, croaking her destination.


	31. Part 2 - Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

In her sadness and haste, Hermione must have misspoke because she landed in a Wizarding clothing shop in the town over. The slender woman with red-streaked blond hair allowed her to disapparate in the storage room. Hermione felt awful about about the mistake and for the woman's trouble she bought a dark red tie.

With the tie in her jean pocket, she let herself into her home. Home...

The lights were bright in the hallway, but there was silence. She went to the second floor, right to Harry's bedroom. His robes for the next morning were hanging lopsided on a hanger, and there was a steaming cup of tea by his bedside, but he was not there.

She was straightening his robes when she heard movement across the hall in her bedroom. She hurried in and saw Harry, his hands on the back of the empty rocker. Hearing her, he spun around, his hand on his wand, but when he saw her, his arm dropped to his side.

She stepped closer. "What's wrong?"

He glanced at the rocker. "I was going to put it away. Thought it might upset you, though."

Running her hand over the curved back, she looked up at him. "Put it away. In fact, burn it." She knew it then, that she couldn't have it in her room. It would only be a remainder of her loss.

"What's going on, Hermione?"

"It's time to move on."

Harry touched her arm, motioning for her to follow him to the kitchen. He walked on in, but she only made it as far as the doorway.

The normally dark kitchen was lit up by strands of Christmas lights. Over the mantle of the fireplace, the cabinets and table and chairs, and the real pine tree in the corner lit in glorious white. It was breathtaking.

"Lovely," was all she could whisper.

"Reckoned we deserve a proper Christmas."

Hermione tore her teary gaze away. For the first time, she saw that Harry looked as bad as she did; dark circles haunted his eyes, his frame thin. Guilt washed painfully over her.

"You're brilliant," she said.

"They're just muggle lights."

Quickly, she wiped her tears and embraced him tightly. "Merry Christmas, Harry."

"Merry Christmas, Hermione."

She wondered if he knew Ginny was never going to come back. It was a silly thought, in retrospect. Of course he knew. That was why she was there. Harry was too ashamed to admit he didn't want to be alone.

Neither did Hermione.

"Harry..." She leaned back, peering into his visage. "It's time I realized that, because he can't live, I have to. And I want to live my life with you."

Harry looked as though he had been hit by a rogue bludger. Since he was not close to giving her an answer she took the tie out of her pocket and slung it over his neck.

"What are you going to do, Hermione?"

"I'm going to be a Healer. I'm going to do what I've been doing for him. He was our friend, Harry. I won't abandon him again."

"Okay," he agreed simply.

She smiled a tight lipped smile, the kind where you don't want to smile. She straightened the tie. "You look handsome."

He touched the tie and then touched her hip, his gaze questioning. Gently, he pulled her to him, and leaned forward, the tips of their noses touching, his lips hovering. All she had to do was rock forward and close the gap, but it would be a permanent act, something she wouldn't be able to erase.

It didn't take her but a second to make her decision. Draco wasn't coming back and what she needed - wanted, was to be home. Harry was her home.

Their lips met, warm and sweet like Butterbeer. He was everything that kept her sustained and in her skin where she felt like she was anything but. He made her feel alive again.


	32. Part 2 - Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

It was a year later and Hermione was working for England's Home for Honored Aurors. It was where Draco lived, in a blinding white room with photographs of better days, and fresh wildflowers at his bedside that Hermione picked in a nearby field. There was a window where he sat in a wicker chair for the good part of the afternoon where his eyes were set on the ever-changing sky that he could no longer see.

Hermione, dressed in her white Healer's robes, entered his room. She picked up his brush, and began parting his hair to the side, the way she liked it. She remembered him telling her once that he liked it parted on the right, but she got a horrible pleasure in teasing him by doing it the way he disliked. There was always that feeling, that maybe he would tell her to stop. It was her goading that kept a flame of hope she was sure would never be assuaged.

As she brushed his hair, she told him about her day - the simple things. She told him what she had for breakfast, what the sky looked like, who won the latest Quidditch game, and the past Sunday dinner at the Weasley's. Whether he could hear her or not, it made her feel close to him.

The year past by in a haze for Hermione. She spent it studying, passing her exams with such ease that a month ago she was awarded out of the program early. Harry pretended to be quite frustrated with her, quipping about her intelligence.

There was a soft knock at the door. Hermione turned, smiled, and set the brush back on the table. She hugged Harry.

"Are you ready? Ron'll be upset if we're not there for dinner."

"I wouldn't miss it. I'm happy for Ron. I hope he doesn't forget the ring."

"Ginny will remind him. Emily will say yes either way."

She raised a brow, but nodded. "You're right.

"Arthur will be thrilled his son marrying a muggle," Harry laughed, helping take her jacket off.

Underneath her work robes she wore a dark blue dress. She threw the robes into the hamper, taking out the clip that held her bun in place and let her hair flow down.

"You're beautiful," Harry breathed, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

"Mrs. Malfoy should be here soon," she warned him.

"Let's go then." He was never fond of running into Draco's mother. She supposed the forced civility on Mrs. Malfoy's part made it awkward for him.

She returned to Draco long enough to kiss the top of his head, right where she parted his hair. "I'll see you tomorrow," she promised before giving her hand to Harry's.

The door shut behind them, leaving Draco alone.

There was only one crackled sound that broke the terrible silence.

"Hermione..."

* * *

A/N: I know this ending is upsetting to many, but I thought it left a feeling of hope. There will not be an alternate ending, as this was my attempt at a open ended one. Sorry!

Thank you! I promise my next story will be more upbeat!


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